#i get the point they were trying to make w the complacency of the new republic but good grief.

[fiovske]

girl what the hell are they doing in the mandalorian 🧍

[lord-aldhelm]

WIP Wednesday

No one tagged me this time and I almost forgot about this!! Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea!

So for this WIP Wednesday, I am going to do something a little different! I am going to post the entire most recent chapter of my WIP. I really love how this turned out, and wanted to share the whole thing. It kind of works well as its own little standalone ficlet.

From my latest Aldflaed WIP (that does not have a title yet)

Background Context: This takes place in early Season 2. King Ceolwulf II has just passed away, and Lord Aethelred was installed as the new Lord of Mercia. He is taking charge of moving the household from the old capital of Tameworthig (Tamworth) to Aegelesburg (Aylesbury). Aldhelm has just been promoted to captain of the guard, and is having a hard time gaining the respect of his new subordinates...

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Chapter after the cut below:

Aldhelm left the peace and solitude of the forest, feeling energized and enlightened. But it was not to last. Before he even entered the castle gate, he heard shouting and the sounds of things breaking. He drew his sword and ran into the courtyard, expecting the worst, but to his dismay and somewhat relief found it was just the guards being rowdy. The previous captain had already been dismissed, given an early retirement and a gift of land in the western part of Mercia. In that short time, the guards were taking advantage of being leaderless, or so they thought. Many held horns of ale as they stood in the street, yelling and laughing, and some of them were even causing destruction to property. Others sparred recklessly in the sides of the courtyard, and some others were harassing women who were trying to go about their business. Apparently, they were bored and restless, having nothing to do as the castle was being packed up.

He had never known the guards to be so unruly before, but they seemed to be taking advantage of the change in leadership to relieve some stress. And also, quite clearly, to test him. Although he had already been acknowledged as their captain, and had made a point to introduce himself to them, they did not take him seriously. He needed to make a forceful impression on them so they knew he meant business. He was already used to the role of advisor and king’s right-hand man, but he had to adjust to his new role as captain of the guard.

He was a decent warrior, having been highly trained in skills of sword and shield, axe and spear. He mastered every skill given to him with ease, and was a fast learner; however, he detested fighting. He would much rather fight his battles with a quill than a sword. But Aldhelm had a special talent for battle tactics, and it made sense to have a strategist like him in the lead of the army. So, he accepted it without complaint. And now he needed to bring them in line, and he knew he only had the one chance or else they would never respect him as their captain. He sighed, realizing that his leisurely strolls in the woods were now a thing of the past, no matter where they lived. His life was going to get busier and more complicated than he anticipated.

He sheathed his sword and casually strode in through the front gate. The guards saw him enter but paid him no mind, and continued their raucous merrymaking. They were not at all threatened by the tall, lithe man with no real battle experience. He remained calm and complacent, which was difficult considering the circumstances. Were the guards so undisciplined that they could not go a day without their captain bearing down on them? That would need to change. He continued to saunter seemingly unbothered through the middle of the courtyard, glancing over the scene before him to pick out the worst offender. Without breaking his stride, he unsheathed his sword again, and smacked the loudest man with the broad side of his sword.

It might as well have been a honeybee stinging a boar; the man was much larger and heavier than him by nearly double, and built like a brown bear with thick corded muscles and a broad barrel chest. He had clearly seen many battles, and was covered in scars. The man turned around to confront his attacker, but when he saw Aldhelm, he gave pause. Aldhelm could see some semblance of thought forming behind the man’s dull grey eyes, and let him think about his next action before he continued. The battle-worn guard, rather than getting angry, started to laugh. The rest of the guard looked on, not knowing what to do, but eventually they joined in and laughed as well. Aldhelm smirked and tilted his head slightly, knowing he was the butt of the joke but let them have their little moment of jest.

“I seem to have interrupted quite a party here,” Aldhelm said, standing firm and confident in the face of real danger. As he spoke, the laughter stopped. “But it is time now for you to clean up this mess you have made.” He gestured broadly with the point of his sword to the broken bits of wood and other debris that littered the walkway in the courtyard. The burly man just laughed in his face, completely unbothered by the weaker man making unreasonable demands of him, and turned to walk away and continue his wanton destruction.

Aldhelm was undeterred. “Since you are all clearly bored, and in need of something to do, why don’t we have a training session.” His soft steady voice barely carried across the courtyard, but the big man heard him.

His head turned to once again face Aldhelm. “You? Train me?” His eyes darted up and down across Aldhelm. “What a joke.”

Aldhelm rested his blade against his shoulder in a cocksure manner. “You are right. It would not be a fair fight. I will ask one of the other guards to spar with me instead. Someone who will actually be a challenge for me.”

“Little twig, I don’t know how you ended up being the captain, but you had best go home now, unless you want me to snap you in half!” the burly man announced. When Aldhelm made no indication that he would leave, he continued. “Look, we all know that I should be the captain. I was second in command, and was promised a promotion. Now, why don’t you do us all a favor, and go back inside the castle, and tell the king that a mistake was made, and that Wulfstan is the new captain of the guard.”

A chilling smile spread across Aldhelm’s face as he unpinned his brooch. He removed his cloak and gently set it on a stone bench nearby, and picked up one of the shields that had been callously dropped on the ground. “You can certainly have the role of captain, if you defeat me in single combat.”

“Little lordling, I will not be held responsible for your death,” Wulfstan replied gruffly. “You want the title, fine, you can have it, in name only. But you step aside and let me lead the men in real battle.”

The smile vanished from Aldhelm’s face, and his fierce green eyes were set in a cold, hard, unwavering glare at Wulfstan. “Draw your sword and face me. I will not ask again.”

Wulfstan decided to humor him. He nonchalantly picked up his shield, and pulled his short-sword from the scabbard. He had no time to react before Aldhelm struck without warning, raining powerful blows onto his shield. Wulfstan was shocked at how strong he was; he was taken off balance and pushed backwards before he was able to stabilize and defend himself properly. He managed to get an offensive swing at Aldhelm but made no contact; Aldhelm had anticipated the move and leapt backwards, leaving Wulfstan to swing at empty air. Aldhelm charged forward again, and made contact with Wulfstan’s armor, leaving deep cuts in his leather bracer and severing a few links of chainmail on his left arm. Wulfstan realized that Aldhelm meant business, and began to take the fight seriously. If the scrawny man died, so be it. He had an entire army as witness of his attack, and would be justified.

Wulfstan charged at Aldhelm, sword held high, and swung hard at his head. But as before, he never made contact; Aldhelm was far too fast for him, and had already leaned backwards, avoiding the blow. In response, Aldhelm circled around to his right side and struck again, and managed to get a slice into his right shoulder pad. Wulfstan swung his sword out at him, but again, Aldhelm had already leapt back, avoiding the sword. By this point, the rest of the guard had already formed a square around the dueling pair, and were watching intently. They could not believe that a skinny weakling was able to fight the man they thought of as their best warrior. They watched with baited breath, hoping that Wulfstan would put an end to the silly battle, and retain his honor. But as the duel continued, they realized that their leader was actually being bested by him, to their disbelief.

Aldhelm seemed to anticipate the advances of Wulfstan with eerie accuracy, and always managed to avoid his blows. It was like he could see into the future. But what they didn’t know is that Aldhelm had spent many hours watching the guards spar in the courtyard and training grounds, and knew all of Wulfstan’s typical moves. What they also did not know was that Aldhelm was formally trained by Ceadda, the previous captain. He had also received combat training during his time in Rome, and was deceptively strong for his stature. People tended to underestimate Aldhelm, which he used to his advantage, and this time was no different.

Wulfstan was starting to escalate, while Aldhelm stayed calm and composed. In his fury, Wulfstan charged at Aldhelm and their blades met with a loud metallic clang. The bigger man pressed down on Aldhelm, and his blade snaked along Aldhelm’s down to the hilt. At that moment, Aldhelm raised his shield and hit Wulfstan hard with the edge of it, straight into his temple. The burly man stumbled backward, dropping his own shield in the process. Blood ran down his face and into his eye, temporarily blinding him on one side. While he was stunned, Aldhelm rammed hard into him, knocking him down onto the ground. As Wulfstan’s blurred vision came into focus, he saw Aldhelm standing over him, his sword pointed at his chest.

“Do you yield?” Aldhelm said softly. The burly man raised his hands, and nodded. Aldhelm withdrew his sword, and as he did, Wulfstan staggered to his feet. His angry glare met Aldhelm’s cool one. He could not believe this willowy man defeated him at swordfighting. The rest of the guard started shouting epithets at Aldhelm, briefly drawing his attention to them. He half expected one of the other guards to charge at him in defense of their fallen leader. However, it was Wulfstan who made the next move. He drew his seax, and while Aldhelm was distracted, charged at him full force. Aldhelm saw the movement in his peripheral field of vision, and reacted quickly. At the last second Aldhelm raised his shield, blocking the attack. The seax was plunged deep into the shield, splitting it, and almost making contact with his face. He rotated his arm so that the blade was deflected away from his face, but in the process, it had grazed him just to the side of his right eye.

Aldhelm put his full force into his shield, twisting it and forcing it away from himself and into Wulfstan. The seax, still embedded in the broken shield, was wrenched from Wulfstan’s hand and tossed onto the ground. Wulfstan grabbed the shield fragment from the ground, and struggled to pry the seax loose, holding the shield with his right hand and using his left to free the blade. Before Wulfstan could use it, Aldhelm had raised his sword and struck the unarmed man with a devastating blow that penetrated a weak point in his armor just below the elbow of his left arm. A major artery had been severed, and blood gushed out of the wound. Wulfstan dropped the seax and fell to his knees, his right hand squeezing his left elbow to stop the bleeding. Aldhelm swung his sword swiftly around to point directly at his throat, and once again, calmly asked, “Do you yield?” Wulfstan’s eyes were wide with pain and fear, and he relented this time.

“Yes, Lord,” he said weakly, shaking uncontrollably. He was starting to lose a lot of blood, and would surely die. Aldhelm sheathed his sword and grabbed his cloak, using it to place a tourniquet on Wulfstan’s injured arm.

He stood and glanced at one of the horrified guards still standing in a square. “You,” he said, making eye contact with one, “bring me something to cauterize this wound.” When he didn’t move, Aldhelm emphasized, “Now!” and the young guard ran off to the nearby blacksmith, and returned with a metal bar, still red hot at the tip. Aldhelm removed the cloak and pressed the glowing end of the bar into the wound. The big man screamed in pain, and the acrid smell of burning flesh and smoke filled the air. But, the bleeding was stopped. Aldhelm rewrapped his elbow with a clean section of the cloak. He ordered another guard to notify the priests, who would be needed to tend to his wounds and nurse him back to health after his severe injury.

Once Wulfstan was carried away by the priests to recover, Aldhelm addressed the rest of the guard. “Does anyone else wish to challenge me?” No one said a single word. They were shocked and impressed by not only how deceptively strong a fighter he was, but by the mercy he showed Wulfstan. Wulfstan had committed treason, humiliated his master, and attempted to murder the new captain. He should have been executed on the spot for his crimes, or allowed to bleed to death where he lay. But Aldhelm showed him compassion, and tended to his wounds instead, saving his life. They all looked at their new captain with awe and reverence, and knew that this man was someone they would follow to the ends of the earth.

* * *

No Pressure Tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @thenameswinter99 @alexagirlie @synintheraven @garunsdottir @thelettersfromnoone @aegonx @itbmojojoejo and whoever else wants to do it!

[project-youngrecklesslove]

meeting a person on a random encounter that was not expected maybe gave me some insight to just doing what the great Uncle talked about. the impact of such conversation reinforced my old thought of gathering knowledge from others.

i am so worried about something i thought i had control of and desperately needed control of to make sure something doesnt happen. and in that i lost my rage, the anger that fueled me to be the better version of me. what i thought was peace was becoming my addiction. it became what i depended on. not because it brought me pleasure, but peace.

trying to let go and randomly typing this should help me in discovering what priority takes in my life. i always thought it would be alone until thr change happened. then through ripples in the timeline, changed course from what i was projecting to be my reality.

from walking across a concrete bridge to being hit with harsh winds, freezing winters, and constant travel of heavy burdens, the bridge that once seemed indestructible from an asteroid seems like any crack it has now can rupture all of it.

it seemed i was walking back and forth crossing the depths i was afraid of but in my travels, discovered the fog never cleared up. what i thought was the end was only another column that in itself had enough land to be considered the end point. ive been traveling back and forth on this bridge that i realized it goes on. the end is not in sight.

rather than be afraid of the unknown depths, the fear is staying in what im discovering to be one of the many small isoalted lands. after solace int this time, i can see the next island which this bridge connects to. but vaugely can i see what it holds. it's so far.

with risk, comes an avalanche of uncertain. an endless amount of cracks from an impact to a slate. should i remain on this bridge, i could fall into an endless pit. should i stay on the island, i might not be able to move forward or even come back to my beginnings. the beginning that has given me such strong base as a man.

what i had to do to get to this point was guidance of others. specifically those i felt were genuine. and as time passed by, felt the prescence was full of hate. a hate that was being harbored from days on end. to know how many days is to reach a black hole. the desire of attaining something that will engulf you in an emotion i could not comprehend until within my touch.

the reason i had to walk and try is slipping my hands. but as a broken glass, maybe i should just set it aside. burn it in flames until it can molded into something else. carrying seems to hurt. i refused change and yet others were quicker to it.

maybe thats why i stay on this island. what i thought was my end is my plateau. to harbor anger from humanity once again to allow me to build my equipment to travel on again without the worry of the past will take all of me.

i might not be able to allow others on my journey, but maybe they can use my camp ive left behind. a place to stop by and read my adventure. joining this trip would allow me to fall in peace again. i do not want to feel vulnerable.

i see the picture of what i once was. i smile as i might encounter such person on this bridge. when the light shines through this fog, i can see the next island. but most of the times it is too dark to see. left alone for so long has allowed me to see what i think are ghosts. demons. creatures too familiar to believe they are real. if i come across myself, i can only be strong to complete my travel for the innocence i once knew. the innocence i still hold on to for my younger self.

maybe i can help others. lead them to their dreams. that which i am beginning to understand wont be for me. complacent i have been, yes. joyful in the small items of life i have received. but to have my dreams are too distant to even desire. seeing other's rejoice in their accomplishments seems to give me more light than my own greed. i admit that much.

maybe on this new journey, i can leave behind desires. the weight has given my knees pain from which is not reversible. i take a point to say im selfish and greedy. maybe i am or maybe not. but i keep to hopefully be a better human.

i dont know who will see this or take the time to womder from my words, but hope you can flee your doubts and embark on being strong and stand. i can only leave you these words stranger. but may we meet again.

[moonbaby26]

Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

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The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[euphoricsunflowers]

sweet angel — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: i hope you guys like this piece because i put a lot of effort into it and i really like the storyline 🥺🥺

word count: 2.3k

content: sub!wonho, dom!fem!reader, not explicitly afab but she/her pronouns for the reader, only like half of it is horny, handjobs, some shit doesn’t make sense just go with it, this fic has cute moments but warning you now it’s not what you think it is.

summary: the goddess of stars and moons, of gold and silk, falls in love with a human with soft features and an endearing pout.

because of a violent and blood history, every year the village sends one of their maidens or men to the goddess temple as a sort of offering to her. she has not attacked the village since and the souls that are sent to her are never returned.

when wonho heard the news, that he was chosen to be sent to the goddess, it’s as if the knowledge was deafening. he couldn’t imagine giving up everything just to be a sacrifice. he had friends and a family and a important role in his community.

but it had to happen, “you were chosen for the sacrifice?” wonho’s younger friend asked him, his voice slightly trembling at the implications.

“it’ll be okay, kyun. i’ll be okay and you all will be okay without me,” wonho smiles distantly, because he can’t seem to find it in him to meet the gaze of his friend. he knows he’s already crying, he doesn’t want to cry more, “it’ll all be okay...”

“no! no it’s not okay!” he cries out, but his cries fall in deaf ears. not even wonho can fight this anymore, “stop! why are you so complacent in this fate? she’s going to kill you!”

“i know...” he mutters sadly, “that’s why i’m so complacent. it’s either me, or it’s you, or it’s jooheon, or minhyuk, or— do you get my point? it has to be me!” his dark yet soft eyes meet changkyun’s first ones, “it has to be me because it can’t be you.”

“that’s easy for you to say! you may want to save us, but we want to save you just as much! it’s selfish to disregard our feelings like that just because you think it has to be you!”

the silence falls over them heavily, and wonho sighs at the tension, “there’s no use in fighting it, kyun. i’m sorry. i dont want to spend my last day here fighting with you,” it broke his heart to see the fire in changkyun’s eyes die out, but they both nod solemnly.

and the next day, wonho was dressed up in beauitful fabrics and was given many gifts to give to her, along with the main gift: his soul. and then he was gone.

he made his way to her temple just outside the village after saying goodbye to everyone. it was so heartbreaking to see the looks on all his friends faces, he couldn’t look any of them in the eye. and with a trembling step, he was now outside the village, and with a few more, he was at the steps of her temple. he takes a deep breath, before stepping inside.

the architecture of the temple was beautiful, golden fabrics and silky white pillars with a beauitful painting of stars in the dark night sky on the ceiling.

“hello?” he calls out, just to hear echos of his own voice. they swirl around his head, making him dizzy, but he catches himself before he falls, “i-i’m here as your soul, the sacrifice from the nearby village.”

still, no response, and when his head fills with a golden fog, he falls helplessly to his knees, his chest filling with the same fog, making him feel so lightheaded and dizzy, “w-wait, please d-don’t kill me!” he begs and that’s when he finally hears it.

“oh, poor angel,” your voice echos loudly, ringing in his ears, “shhhh, you will not die by my hand. you do not need to be as afraid as you are.”

he finally opens his eyes, trying and partially succeeding in seeing where the voice is coming from, “i— please... please,” all he makes out is a figure not of this world, unlike anything he’s ever seen or imagined.

“maybe it’s a bit superficial, but you’re quite... ethereal, dear, and i don’t wish i give you up just yet. give me your name, will you?”

a faint voice in the back of his head reminds him to never give his name, only to tell it, but he doesn’t hear it before his voice speaks before he can stop it, “wonho,” and you smile at him, and suddenly not a single worry passes through his head.

“well, dear wonho, stay still for me for just a second,” you lean in closer, and his eyes flutter shut as you kiss his forehead, it doesn’t feel like much of anything, but he feels his head pulsing (almost as if he was in pain... but without the pain) as you walk away, “there. now you have my mark.”

he can’t see it, but it’s a golden moon just above his right eyebrow, “what... what does it mean?” he notices the star necklace dangling from your neck, the stars upon your dress, the moons seemingly tattooed on your shoulders, but he’s sure they’re just marks of your goddess status.

“your soul is now connected to me. that’s all it means. now, those... gifts you brought. use those to satiate yourself for the time being,” you point to the expressive breads and fruits and wines he wouldn’t have even been allowed to touch back at the village.

“but those are for you...?” he mumbles confusedly, but you just shake your head with a smile. he sudden realizes how all his senses have started to come back to him, how he can see you better now, how he doesn’t hear the echoing of your voice anymore.

“i don’t need such things,” you mutter simply, “now, my angel: let me make arrangements for you, and you can eat in the meantime.”

“oh... okay...” he nods in a daze, watching you disappear into golden dust. the food he eats tastes sweeter and better than anything else he’s ever tasted in his life. the apple is crisp, the bread is so fluffy, he can’t help but be jealous of whoever’s daily life this is.

he spends a long time simply sitting there, almost sickly full from all the rich foods he ate.

“you have pretty eyes, you know,” your words are like a whisper in his ear, but when he turns, you’re quite far away, “i’ve never seen such beautiful and dark eyes, so rich like the night sky, in my entire existence.”

“you’re... really pretty too...” he mumbles, cursing the way you poetically described his eyes and he’s just speechless, but you seem to find it adorable.

“thank you, sweet angel. i’ve returned to you to say that i’ve prepared a bed for you. and i’d like to show you around, if you wouldn’t mind,” he shakes his head, because he genuinely doesn’t mind at all. all those hesistant thoughts disappear into thin air when he hears your voice.

the main hall is where he’s been the whole time, and it’s taller than it is wide or long. he gawks in complete awe at the spacey look of all the rooms you show him. it truly feels like he’s one of the stars in the sky, so floaty and enchanting.

he also doesn’t notices the cute sounds he makes when he’s excited or comfy and it’s adorable when he realizes your hear his little ‘wah’s and ‘oof’s. he gets so flustered, it’s quite endearing.

he excitedly tries to stumble into the next room, but your hand stops him, “that one’s off limits for now, my angel. the next one should be your bedroom, come along now.”

part of him is aching with curiousity, but the other part of him can’t help but give in. your voice is too soft, your demeanor is too gentle, you’re too merciful for you to be bad... at least to him.

the last room you show him is his bedroom. the bed is lined with silk sheets and a thick blanket that’s softer than anything he’s felt in his entire life. he lays down on it, and it genuinely feels like he’s sinking, like the bed his pulling him in, and he never wants to get up again.

“i take it you like the arrangements,” you giggle at his content smile, so warm and comfy in the comforts of your bed. he opens his eyes to gaze at the ceiling, full of stars and beautiful artistry, just like all the other rooms in this place.

“do you think i’ll be able to see them all again?” he asks with pleading eyes, begging for something he doesn’t verbalize. all of his friends, his mom, his world outside the pale walls of your temple.

“it’s possible, but i’m not sure i’d be able to.”

he makes an adorable face of confusion. you notice all the ways he’s so expressive, it’s like he can never hide his feelings because they’re written on his face, “what do you mean?”

“i believe... i’ve fallen for you. there’s a stronger urge to protect you than before with the others. and you’re just so adorable and endearing—” he gets flustered by your words, but that just spurs you on, “—like that!! you get so shy and it warms my heart.”

he looks lost as he tries to take it all in, but you hold your hand to his cheek, and his breathing seems to stop, so shocked and flustered, but you continue, “but i’ve never been able to love like this. and now i... i want to know what it’s like to love like a human, so freely and intensely and with all risks.”

“that’s why i’m still here, why you haven’t... made me...” he finishes your words, and you nod, leaning in closer to him, “when you said ‘to love like a human’, do you mean like—”

“yes,” you whisper, finishing the sentence for him. love, i want to love you. more than romantically, i want to love you until you can’t breathe. so faintly pressing your lips to his that you can still feel his shaky breathes and quiet pleas, “and i apologize for my actions and language, but i believe you’ve already fallen for me, sweet angel.”

his eyes glean with golden flakes in the irises as he stumbles just out of your touch slightly, in shock, “w-what do you mean?”

you chuckle, leaning in even closer, “here, i’ll show you. come, kiss me, for real this time,” he hesitates, but sits up to meet you in a kiss. it’s gentle at first, but when you tilt your head, you increase the passion in the kiss ten fold.

your free hand rubs his thigh and lightly touches his cock over the pants he wore and he moans into the kiss. suddenly your lips are on his neck, leaving golden marks on his honey skin, and he whimpers.

“i can still feel how nervous you are, baby angel. relax for me, i just want to make you feel good,” your voice is like a soft silky feeling in his ear, and all other sounds disappear.

“please don’t tease me,” he pouts, and you laugh sweetly, so endeared by his adorable expression, speeding up the pace of your hand jerking him off.

“i’m sorry, pretty angel. i won’t do it again,” your hand really starts to work him, and you press more kisses to his skin, covering him in small moons and stars, marks of your touch on him.

“i’m getting close...”he mumbles, not seemingly able to do much more than that as he gets closer and closer to letting go completely. poor thing’s barely been touched at all, but he’s gotten so worked up so easily. whether it’s because your touch is special, or because he’s just easy, it’s quite adorable, “gotta c-cum.”

“of course, sweet angel,” you smile sweetly as he closes his eyes, his whole body tensing up as he finally lets go, “let me fill you with euphoria, come on, cum for me,” he cums, getting the blanket and your hand all messy, but that’s nothing to worry about. the orgasm feels like nothing he’s ever felt before.

it leaves him floating in the clouds, so unaware of his surroundings or the way you clean him up, kiss his forehead once more, and just pull him close and hold him, “i can help you fall asleep, if need be, baby angel. just try to relax. you will be safe here for the rest of your days. i’m so, so sorry about everything that had to happen...

but you’re with me now, and what a beautiful star you are.”

...

this is wrong.

this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. he should be in his bed, with you, laying there until you decided to wake him. he should be basking the warmth your aura radiates, but instead he’s realizing just how cold it is in your temple when you’re not with him. he realizes how miserable feelings come back to him so quickly when he’s far enough from you, like you’re a drug he’s finally come down from.

and then he sees it: the forbidden room. he’s slightly afraid you might catch him, but you were sleeping sound next to him. there’s no way you could catch him. and even if you did, what’s the worst that could happen? you didn’t seem that scary, and he doesn’t know why, but the curiousity overwhelms him and he physically has no choice but to do it.

the second his hand collids with the door-handle, your voice is in his head. he can’t quite make out what you’re saying, but he lets go immediately, his knees giving out on him for a reason he can’t pin point.

“your soul will make a perfect star for me, wonho,” the words don’t even sound like you said them, but they echo through his head until he’s curled up in front of the door to the room, crying into his hands, begging for the echos to stop, begging for mercy, begging for what he doesn’t even know.

“and what a beautiful star you’ll be.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @baa-nana @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub

[thekrazykeke]

title: just keep breathing

fandom(s): fallen hero rebirth/retribution

pairing(s): wei chen x sidestep. ricardo ortega x sidestep. wei chen x ricardo ortega x sidestep. ricardo ortega x wei chen. 

playlist/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY

rating: t+

summary: maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

warning(s): pre poly relationship, comfort food, pining, mild spoilers for the alpha build, angst and hurt/comfort.

Listen. 

I played Fallen Hero Rebirth and rated it a solid 9, and the story initially left me crying my eyeballs out but mildly confused, wanting to understand things. So I replayed and replayed and replayed. I picked up things and the clues started fitting together. I paid for the Retribution alpha build and I’m still crying my eyeballs out at night over it but I wanted resolution. I wanted to give (one of) my character(s) a light at the end of the tunnel. 

So this is what it is. Or an attempt at it because FHR is really quite dark and not for the faint hearted. Those warning tags are not for show. 

Sidestep’s name is Tyndall Bowman in this one.

~

It happens on a Sunday. The last weekend before a new month started, technically.

Ortega frequently visits Chen’s apartment and brings food, lightly ribbing the other man for his lackluster kitchen space. Chen’s routine response becoming less and less exasperated each time. 

You think that he not so secretly fears that you’ll both starve or subsist off canned food and cheap takeout. ...Which probably isn’t a far off assumption, considering the implication day one of your temporary living situation.

It could be considered sweet, if it wasn’t so very funny. (You had to get your kicks somewhere).

Your legs are still broken. 

Progress is frustratingly slow. 

You’d tried to move to a schedule of crutches-only by the second week out of sheer boredom and the flat look Chen had leveled in your direction caused you to nix that idea stat. 

There’s a tension between Chen and you now. 

Not to say that there rarely isn’t tension, but that’s usually due to an aftermath of an argument. Now? Now, you’re aware of him. Aware of him in a way that you’d only been aware of Ortega.

Fucking hell.

Someone’s knee brushes lightly against yours, breaking you out of your reverie. You glance to the left and catch sight of Ricardo watching you with soft, worried eyes. Chen also watching, but less obvious in his concern, features more stoic, controlled. The three of you are in the living room, they are siting on the couch, you’re in your wheelchair. 

They probably asked you something and you were zoned out.

The lie is on the tip of your tongue, “I’m fine,” you mumble and grip your bowl which has half melted blueberry swirl ice cream and salted caramel cheesecake. Sweets are your kryptonite but Ricardo has pulled out your top favorites...

“You’re fine?” Ricardo scoffs, his tone skeptic. 

A muscle jumped in your jaw. “Yep, just fine,” you reply, using your spoon to scoop up some ice cream, take a bite and enjoy the flavor. Refusing to give an inch and let him win. 

The two of you had played this game many times, too many actually, and it usually ends with you being the one to fall for the prodding, and then you get angry, lash out. 

Walk away.  Only this time you can’t. 

Another scoff. “Typical. You do this every time, you know.” There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Ricardo’s voice now. 

“Ricardo,” Chen starts to interject, the strain clear in his voice. “Tyndall. Stop.”

It’s too late though. 

Placing down the bowl on the nearest surface, freeing up your hands, you clench then unclench your fingers, trying to avoid cracking your knuckles. “And what about you, then huh, Saint Ortega?” The sneer on your face is ugly. “You’re always on about me being honest with my feelings and talking, but the truth of it is, you’re just like me, or worse!”

Ortega looks dumbfounded. As if he can’t believe you’d dare to throw the truth in his face like this, so obviously. He recovers quicker than you’d like, much to your annoyance, though. “...Maybe so,” he acknowledges, his voice softer. Enough to lull a more gullible individual into complacency or just anyone not paying attention. You know better. “That’s a topic we can revisit in a moment. I’m more curious about how long the two of you expect me to play the idiot here.”

Unwillingly, your eyes dart to Chen’s, then away. 

Not focusing on any particular point in the room. Does Ortega know that you’re Mastermind? Since when, and did Chen tell him? Or is he bluffing right now and he doesn’t know? Is he talking about something totally different than what you’re thinking about?

Quick! Think up an appropriate answer and throw him off the trail!

“....I don’t....know what you mean.”

That’s not what you should say!!

Chen sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He looks pretty much done with the both of you right now, not that you can blame him. “Be clearer, the two of you have a propensity for telling half truths which leads to the majority of these absurd arguments.” 

Ricardo winced and you feel the sting from that particular burn as well. 

“In response to your statement, though, no one is expecting you to play the fool.” He looks a little nervous, guilty. “ I... We’ve kissed.” There’s a pinch to his brow, the tips of his ears turning pink. “That wasn’t an example of being a good friend to you, kissing Tyndall and murkying the waters further when I knew the two of you were...” There’s a pause as he tries to find a word for what you and Ortega shared before you and he tentatively stopped antagonizing each other and bonded over Spoon. 

You snorted, lips twisting into a wry smile, “The phrasing of that sentence makes it sound as if I found it a chore to kiss you or something.” Chen cuts you an admonishing look which you temporarily ignore as you turn to glance at Ortega who’d been watching the byplay between you and Chen with an unreadable expression. For the nth time, you wish you could read his mind, and at the same time, you’re grateful that you can’t. 

“...He’s right though. It was an epically shitty thing to do, kissing your oldest friend, who’s probably had a crush on you since he’s met you, while we were kissing. Totally and unnecessarily complicated.”

He just looked at the two of you for a moment. Then Ricardo sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, wearily. “Esto es un desastre.”

You say nothing, staying quiet because honestly, you agree. This is a mess, and it was poorly handled, on all sides. You’d already spilled the beans about Chen having a crush Ortega before it got to this point because you sincerely thought the conversation should have come up properly over seven years ago, your ‘death’ should have been a nonfactor. 

They likely would’ve been a couple already if they weren’t such obtuse idiots.

“Okay... okay...” Ricardo seems to have come to a conclusion. He nods resolutely, turning all his considerably intense focus onto Chen who seems taken aback by it. Leaning forward into the other man’s space, slow enough that it’d be easy to shove him back, but of course Chen doesn’t. Ricardo’s hand went to the nape of his neck, lightly urging Chen forward, the other man obeying that silent request, and in the span of a breath, they’re kissing.

Your don’t avert your gaze, as much as you want to. 

This is a private thing, you shouldn’t look, shouldn’t stare like a pervert. 

‘Isn’t this what you knew would happen?’ Of course, your brain isn’t nice. 

This is what you wanted right, for them to get their act together. 

Humans falling in love with each other is normal and acceptable. (Although your education depicted of men and women falling in love, primarily). It happens all the time. 

Such emotion is a luxury a Re-Gene cannot afford, nor can they sincerely feel it, that’s what you were taught on the Farm. So resistant to the idea of going back to being treated as an unfeeling thing, your re-education had been particularly brutal.

“Whatever horrible thing your mind is telling you, it isn’t true.”

Once again caught off guard, lost in thought, you’re unprepared for Ricardo to kiss you. He tastes faintly of blueberry swirl ice cream and sweet tea, and maybe it’s your imagination, but maybe even a little bit like Chen. It’s that stray thought that has you jerk your head, trying to turn away from him. “W...what the hell, asshole?”

He snorted. “You know you sound really cute when you curse.” 

Baring your teeth, you snap, “Tomber d'une falaise!” Although the idiot clearly didn’t know what you said in French, basically telling him to fall off a cliff, it didn’t stop him from dramatically clutching at his chest, as if he’d been stabbed in the heart; he could probably guess it was at least an insult.

“Stop teasing him, Ricardo.” Chen admonished. Ricardo mock pouted. “I mean it. Can’t you see that he’s overwhelmed?”

“I am not overwhelmed!”, you vehemently protest.

“Out of your depth then,” Chen countered and before you could complain that it was pretty much the same thing, only with differing meanings, he continued on, “What our resident idiot is clumsily trying to show instead of explain, is that he wants both of us.”

“If you want a threesome, fine. It’ll have to wait, as I’m a bit physically impaired at the moment.” You’re almost surprised by the bitterness in your voice. 

Chen stared at you for a brief moment and then he braced both hands on either side of your wheelchair. Heart slowly turning over in your chest, oddly feeling as if you’re caught in the gaze of a hunter, you stubbornly keep eye contact for a second or two, but can’t maintain it for long. That doesn’t stop him from murmuring in your right ear, “Stop being so stubborn. Stop lying. You want this. To be in a relationship with both of us.”  A brief pause. “Correct?”

Fucking hell... 

Swallowing thickly, wondering the logistics of how that would work out. Wondering if you were about to once again make a horrible mistake. Then again, since you’d come back to Los Diablos, since Ortega found you again, that’s all you’ve been doing so far, haven’t you. Making mistake after mistake after mistake. 

“Yes.” 

As Chen’s left hand buried itself in your curls, taking control, tilting your head back, idly you wondered if the next time you hit the ground, if it’d hurt less. This is after a freefall into madness, it feels like, and twice as foolish. Yet you surrender, and you stop thinking, enjoy the kiss. 

[koinoyokvn]

* / 𝐈 𝐍 𝐓 𝐑 𝐎 𝐃 𝐔 𝐂 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍

* CODY CHRISTIAN, CISMALE + HE/HIM  | you know BRADLEY ‘BOOG’ RADWELL, right? they’re TWENTY-FOUR, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, SIX YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to INFRA-RED BY THREE DAYS GRACE like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole late night 'open’ signs flickering, a dirty car filled with empty coffee cups & a dopey smile with sleepy, drooping eyes thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 4, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

back at it again at krispy kreme — but here’s my second mad lad n after this i will start coming to everyone w my hands open for some plots n interactions <3

trigger warnings: child abuse tw & self-harm tw / omg forgot to add hospital n death tw too

* / 𝐁 𝐀 𝐒 𝐈 𝐂 𝐒

hair: dirty blonde

eyes: blue

build: broad & toned

height: 5′8��� or 173 cm

weight: 163 lbs or 74 kg

distinguishing features: a hand tattoo on his left hand of a sunset, a sleeve tattoo on his right forearm of a yellow and green dragon, a tattoo of a jorogumo (spider-woman) in front of a waterfall on his right shoulder blade, red and white chrysanthemums on his left calf, a light blue ‘x’ on his left collarbone, and dozens of uniquely designed band-aid tattoos splattered on his biceps and thighs

distinguishing style: hoodies and jeans for days, he’s a bit of a collector of ‘irving’ tourist merch, other than that, toques and plaid and chains with darker palettes

* / 𝐇 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘

bradley was born in a small town in maine. at the time, everything he thought was normal for a child to endure. now that he’s older, he knows it isn’t. growing up, he was a trained liar. he doesn’t like lying now but can spit one out faster and smoother than he’d like to admit. his mother was naive and so young and his father was cruel and lived in the world only for himself. never a good combination.

there were a lot of times bradley would go to school with no food. he would always say he rushed out of the house and forgot because he slept in. his father spent all the grocery money to drink. bradley would fall asleep at school. he would always say it’s because he’s scared of the dark. he was actually scared of his father and would spend the night in his bedroom closet that could lock. bradley would cry and flinch at loud noises and the sound of glass crashing. he would say it’s because he’s just like a deer, easily scared. his father would throw things at him if he so much as stepped out of line (but bradley never knew what that line was). he would endure it all for his mother, who would sometimes come into his room, scoop him up in her arms when things calmed down, and sing to him. it’s these moments he’d remember fondly, the moments where she managed to keep some money for herself and get a good supper for the two.

it truly felt like it was him and his mother against the world. there were a few times where bradley would slip up, say something wrong at school, make an offhand comment about home to his friend, and child services would get involved. however, his father would clean up for these visits. his mother could’ve been an amazing movie actress, as well. bradley was also on his way there — but it was his mistake that they all pretended. he would always get punished for it later. 

sometimes the arguing would get too much. when he cried enough tears from inside the closet, he would run. run to his uncle’s house. he’d ask to stay for a few days. his uncle always said yes. but this would always spell trouble in the long run. his uncle was rowdy, always trying to get his sister out of such a terrible situation, and would butt his head whenever he got a chance. his uncle would often make the fighting worse. all bradley needed was a break, though, he promised.

he was almost finished high school. he took up odd jobs if he wasn’t in school so he didn’t pass with stellar grades or anything. some were even impressed that he managed to end up on the graduation list at all. he had saved up enough money, between him and his mother, to eventually leave his father. there was a light at the end of the tunnel. but, once again, the fighting became too much.

this time, he stayed at a friend’s house. he always had his money on him. he couldn’t trust the nooks and crannies of that house, his father would always worm his slimy fingers into them. he always blamed himself for not staying at his uncle’s that night... or even at home. because this time, the fighting really did become too much and things went too far. 

a frantic call from his uncle in the dead of the night sent bradley on a frenzy. his father had beaten his mother so badly that she was hospitalized. put into a coma with extensive head trauma. bradley left his friend’s on account of emergency but didn’t end up going to the hospital. no, no, no. it was the only time bradley could call himself his father’s son.

that same night, his father died in a car crash. the police ruled it as a collision involving drunk driving. though, there were damages that pointed towards another vehicle ramming into the car. there were no other vehicles on scene when they arrived and the road wasn’t monitored to pull up security footage. however, the only next of kin his father had was bradley and his mother. everything fell onto bradley.

his father, at least, had some funds stashed away in a bank account. it was enough to cover the funeral. but not enough to cover the hospital fees. and bradley felt like he was going insane existing in the house he grew up in. he was going insane just being in the same town he grew up in. everybody seemed to know his business.

so, like he and his mother promised, he ran away. his uncle is the only one who knows his whereabouts now and bradley made him promise not to tell anyone else. but, instead of taking the whole amount, bradley only took half of what he and his mother saved. he used the other half to go towards his mother’s hospital bills. 

bradley, now telling people to call him boog, drifted for a bit. picking up odd jobs for a week or two to feed himself. he needed to find a new home. he needed to be anywhere else but maine. now, he thought about the glamourous cities but felt like it didn’t suit him. eventually, he came to irving. and he liked it. so he stayed here.

boog is called boog because he was a bit of a snotty kid. he was constantly ill with the common cold, linked directly to his home situation. he often had sinus infections because of it. so, mean kids would often call him ‘booger’. eventually, booger became boog and it was just a part of him. he was a laidback individual and the nickname lost its insulting meaning by the time he reached high school but by then, most people called him by his surname. bradley feels too personal. 

boog works two jobs, as well as doing several odd jobs around the neighborhood he settled in. he stocks at the local grocery store, working 3pm to 11pm. he also works at a midnight diner, working from 12am to 8am. he gets some sleep for the morning, then gets right back to it. on his days off, he’s often seen mowing other people’s lawn, cleaning cars and houses, and doing small fix-it jobs around properties. he’s a busybody for sure. but not only does he have to support himself, he has to make sure the hospital bills for his mother are being paid. after all these years, it’s still him and his mother against the world. 

in the six years of being in irving, boog developed some nasty coping mechanisms. any time work became too overwhelming or he couldn’t make a payment and was faced with a late fee, bradley felt like a failure to the point where he would engage in self-harm. he was alone mostly, other than at work or out with his friends, so it was a lot of time to wrestle with this idea that he wouldn’t be enough to keep his mother alive. he would cut his biceps and thighs, places he could easily conceal his scars with t-shirts or shorts. he would cut at work in the men’s bathroom or cut in the closet of his bedroom. familiar places, places where he could hide. 

however, it got out of hand when he cut too deep on his thigh and it affected the way he walked. the visible limp raised concern from coworkers, friends, and neighbors. finally done with lying, he admitted to self-harm to those he trusted. his friends encouraged him to go to counselling and to reach out when he felt the urge.

it’s been a year since he’s last self-harmed. since then, he’s covered his scars with band-aid tattoos, each of them a design from someone he’s felt close enough to tell about his progress. there are still some to be covered, but he’s always mused there’s always friends to be made that could help him cover it up.

* / 𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘

boog is hardworking and determined and doesn’t hesitate to push his limits. of course, this all comes to his physicality and his work ethic. he’s not all too bright, otherwise. he can’t contest life’s many questions, he’s too busy memorizing regular orders, the truck order for the next night, and what his friend’s favourite things are. he’s a very present individual, in that he can’t worry about the future or the past too much. and above all else, boog is kind. 

he never asks for anything in return for the deeds he does. he always repays a favour. and he always extends a helping hand. he thinks being a neighborly person is the pinnacle of humanity and does his best to emulate that. however, that makes for some clashes with his dull mind, as he can often be mistaken or say the wrong thing. his gold heart does make up for his lack of brightness.

boog has also learned patience. patience with the world, patience with himself. he didn’t get angry much before but when he did, it was pent up and built over years of being complacent. it was never a good thing to lose his temper. however, over the course of his regular counselling, he has learned to be more self-aware and express his frustrations in a healthy manner. his shoulders still bear a lot of burden but at least, he can learn to take off the load and rest for a while before putting it back on. 

* / 𝐂 𝐎 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐂 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 𝐒

band-aid crew — this person has designed a band-aid tattoo for boog. he reached out to this person during a time of recovery and trusted him with his journey thus far. this person could have been someone he met at work, through friends, or they live on the same block as him. boog counted and needs 27 band-aids to cover all his scars and is confident that he can get them all covered through others’ artwork. his uncle and nieces already made their mark, and boog designed one himself. ( 0/22 )

upstanding citizen — this person is the parental figure that boog never had and didn’t realize he needed until he befriended this person. they fuss over him and make sure he’s gotten enough sleep. they bring him coffee to work and invite him over for dinner. in return, boog does the same. he tries hard to cook for them— though he’s not great at it. he brings them gifts that reminded him of them. ( 0/1 )

intimacy buddies — boog is kind of pure in that he’s someone who wants to make sure people feel fulfilled. it first started off as a joke, that on the chance that they felt lonely, boog would be of service. however, boog’s pretty dependable and he hides no ulterior motive. so, he cuddles them for hours while watching movies, he holds their hands as they walk through the beach, and he sleeps with them when they can’t stand to sleep alone. he runs his hands through their hair upon request. however, they’re still friends and as thick as thieves. ( 0/3 )

amicable exes — it’s hard for boog to hold grudges. they come in white hot flashes of anger and they leave just as quickly. he’s learned to no longer stew in it. when this relationship falls apart, boog can admit his shortcomings and understand that they just weren’t meant for each other. that doesn’t stop boog from caring about them any less. they’re friends now and maybe friends was always the better option. ( 0/1 )

SPECIAL MENTIONS: as always, i fiend for all sorts of friendly and fwb connections! i also think a rival connection wld b interesting but we wld hav to lay some groundwork for sure!

[anewbeginningagain]

I like P/C and I also like Konner's account of their rise LOL. The power vacuum in Ice Dance after 2014 is a good point, there was a massive one and I think it's not P/C's fault that stars aligned for them and they took the opportunity. I do agree that they are complacent which makes them ill-prepared for V/M comeback. It's also notable that 2 of their WC titles came in seasons where they compete part time (2016, 2019). They were not around as much as I thought they were for a dominant team.

I don’t think anyone necessarily blames P/C for their rise. I think for the most part skating fans try not to blame skaters for their federation/coaches politicking and judges doing a sh*tty job judging them. Everything @macaroni-rascal wrote was so on point and she truly managed to analyze the situation accurately (and as unbiased as possible), between Didier’s insanely strong push for them after P/B missed the Sochi podium to Gadbois giving them a glamover to the massive void TS and D/W left behind them to the rest of the teams being so vanilla that the judges just couldn't get behind any of them (which is very apparent when you see how teams like WeaPo and Chock/Bates started the 2015-2018 quad and how they finished it). Then came P/C with a shiny new packaging and skating style that for the time seemed innovative and the rest is history. 

And as you correctly said, P/C’s easy ride to the top is ironically what mostly cost them the Olympic title everyone thought was theirs until TS made their comeback, they were just completely unprepared to face real strong competition and it completely threw them off. Their Worlds wins were as easy as they come, they won 2015 Worlds by 3 points (but won the FD by 6), they won 2016 worlds by 6 points and basically sailed their way through titles, then TS came back and they lost to them by 9 points in their first face-off... 

For me, the biggest issue is the way P/C rose between 2014 and 2015. I wrote about it before, but the fact that their score went up by more than 43 (!!!!) points between 2014 Worlds and 2015 Worlds is something that there’s no real way to explain. Even if we ignore everything else, to suggest that they improved in a way that can somehow explain this score gap is laughable imo and it becomes even more so when you look at their PCS - going from 27.33 to 36.66 in the SD and from 41.31 to 56.70 in the FD is just unthinkable. 

I still remember in PyeongChang how P/C stans talked about TS FD score improving by 3 points between the team event and the individual event and how it doesn't make sense. This goes to show exactly how little people looked at the score since in those 3 points - 1.5 points came from getting level 4 and not 3 on a step sequence (remember those e good old days when levels actually mattered? The nostalgia...) and the rest in GOE and PCS. And this was somehow “weird” while a 24.72 points increase in PCS alone within a year (which means 2 GP events,  GPF, and Euros) is logical... This is what ice dance is all about.

[leaveharmony]

would love to know about some of kennys other offenses. please.

Boy howdy nonners, how long have ya got lol

Alright so I was never...A Fan, to begin with.  I tolerated him even if I found him irritating in a lot of ways.  

The real Problems I had w/ him started at the first press conference after he won the Heavyweight title; that night jericho won the Intercontinental and (fucking) elgin won the NEVER; kenny basically outright said that three (white) guys from Canada just "wanted it more" than the domestic roster.  That he "never sees" the Japanese wrestlers at the gym, that they're "complacent" and that's why they were outshone.  Everybody lost their minds.  A good friend was trying to gently tell him "Bro you're better than this, you really should have chosen your words more carefully here because that could really, super be interpreted as racist" And he directly responded RE "Please don't look for any 'hidden' racist meaning..." and basically doubled down, and then stood back & watched all his followers bully the shit out of my friend for like a week solid, for the crime of daring to question his choice of words.  She didn't even call HIM a racist, just suggested he could maybe be more mindful when talking directly to western fans bc there's always been a miles-long racist streak in wrestling in general and him talking that way when so many ppl accept what he says as gospel wasn't helping.

There was the bodyshaming...that wasn’t a one-time thing, either, but I digress.

There was the absolute debacle when Meltzer got involved w/ an article RE after kenny left he had "visa problems" ...you have to walk that back to the press conference between Tana and kenny before WK (iirc) wherein kenny claimed he'd gotten his citizenship and felt like he was now "real Japanese."  Which was...kinda yikes in and of itself, but after all that shook out and he took his ball and went home it transpired that it was a flat-out lie, and he'd actually gotten like, a permanent residency.  Now: that meant, so long as he had a company sponsoring him he enter and leave Japan as he pleased w/ that paperwork.  Only he quit NJPW.  So they were no longer sponsoring him, but he was still trying to enter the country w/ this visa/status he had absolutely no claim to anymore because he gave it up when he no longer had that position w/ their company.  This turned into a whole ridiculous conspiracy theory RE NJPW was somehow pulling strings to "get him banned from the country for ten years."  The ten years figure was...actually how long he'd have to wait before reapplying for the status he lost, as was explained to me by someone who actually had some experience in the area.  How much of that nonsense actually came from kenny’s own mouth right to Meltzer's ears?  Hard to say, and it MAY have been a miscommunication that got printed as fact, but all Himself would say was a dramatic "Someday I'll tell you all about how my year was SO MUCH WORSE than rumoured."   All he had to do was say 'Guys no I just ran into some red tape, NJPW has nothing to do with it' but instead he had to fuel the gossip of a mysterious, malicious conspiracy against him and cast the mean, cruel company who...let him leave when he quit...as the relentless villain bullying him out of the country.  This sounds like an exaggeration but he did, actually, have some stupid video based on Undertale (I think?) made in which there was a knockoff Lion’s Mark literally playing the villain.  It was...extremely embarrassing tbh.  And he may even believe it, who knows?  He may actually believe he was pushed out because he was a ~foreigner~ they refused to take seriously; his ego is big enough that I’d not be surprised.

Sometimes istg he even gaslights himself; I remember when he said Shinsuke "hasn't done anything compelling" since leaving for wwe (as though Shinsuke books himself lol)...but then before aew formed, but after he left NJPW, he kept claiming that if he went to wwe he'd be able to put on a seven-minute clinic every show, with the scraps of screentime they throw him...that everybody would be talking about him and only him, that he’d ‘enjoy’ the creative restrictions...as though he didn’t like, walk out on their developmental years ago because of all those restrictions :/

Just last year he was still bitching that Shinsuke never dropped the Intercontinental directly TO him, instead vacating it for a tournament.  Because Shinsuke was "one of their guys," because he always has to have a Special Connection to everyone...as though when this man was about to take a huge step and start a new life, what everybody should really have been thinking about was "Gosh but what about kenny though, shouldn't he have had the distinction of beating him directly for it?"  And notably that’s all he’s said about Shinsuke since he left.  Never brings him up when ppl ask who he’d like to see in aedubya, nothing like that...so I mean, so much for special connections or respect lol.  Respect only goes one way for him.

There was certainly the time he booked a convicted sex offender!  For one of his lil pet shows.  And when ppl called him on it he immediately got defensive and took issue with their "tone" and how they were ~judging him~ without having full information, and if they wanted him to respond politely they should speak kindly and politely to him first (again you’d think I’m exaggerating but that is actually what he said, try being kind and polite).  It took maybe a day of fighting people on twitter before he acted like a fucking adult about that one, even if his sullen "apology" still came off like it had an unspoken "...even though I didn't do anything wrong personally" tacked on the end.

There was his fucking...infuriating white saviour complex RE how with him Steering the Ship NJPW would be unstoppable.  There was his ludicrous claim that "Tanahashi's never done anything for international fans"...conveniently omitting that if it weren't for Tana, there wouldn't have been a company left to hire his skank ass, let alone one for there to be international fans OF.  There was his wink wink nudge nudge way of trying to play both sides; acting Respectful and like a Good Guy when he gave comments in Japanese and essentially going "SIKE!" in english so the neckbeards knew he didn’t really think he wasn’t the only thing worth watching.  He made a point of saying during that feud that if they dared put Tana over him the company would be "going backwards," and then made a point of saying he "Can't work under Tanahashi" as he left - a last cheap parting shot to make sure everybody knew who to 'blame' for him tragically leaving.

He straight up said the whole native roster should "thank me for their paycheques" because of course kenneth omegaman is the only one anyone is paying to see, no one else could possibly be interesting enough to tune in for, only him.

I remember when he was hilariously claiming that LIJ would never catch on for the western audience and Naito would never be popular here lol.

He bitches, somehow, simultaneously about not having been made leader of the bullet club soon enough (having to step aside for aj), and that "before the first Okada match" he was making more money from prowrestlingtees than he was from his contract (as though making him leader of the most visible western faction and essentially giving him a license to print money in the process somehow wasn't enough).

Like two years after he left he is still!  Taking every chance he can get!  To shit on NJPW.  He and the fucking bucks were still shit-talking Harold, ffs, years after they left.

....I feel like Marge when Reverand Lovejoy was asking her to list grievances about Homer.  He probably does blow his nose on towels and put them back in the cupboard, too, but only in other people’s houses :P 

Anyway that’s off the top of my head.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 2: Priorities

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~2900

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Ninety minutes since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note:  A series that follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist, linked here.

Drake glanced over at his daughter sleeping soundly against his shoulder, her fists clutching tightly to the collar of his old denim shirt. The rocking of the car had lulled her to sleep within 20 minutes, before they’d even passed Applewood Orchards. Combine that with the fact that this was around her usual nap time, and she was out for the count. It was a blessing, he supposed, that she was so easily calmed in a car. This whole situation was stressful enough without a screaming 10 month old on top of everything. Plus, she hadn’t really noticed Riley’s utter breakdown.

When Drake had found Riley and Bridget out on the drive, he’d not even been a little bit prepared for what was about to happen. Obviously, he’d known Riley would be raging about Barthelemy’s plan. That was a given. And he wasn’t exactly surprised that the conversation she’d had with Olivia had been about a plan to get Bridget out of there. Riley had been acting cagey and weird, but when Olivia had pulled him aside not even a minute after Riley had left the room, pointed at a tube of diaper ointment on the floor, and told him to get to her driver and head to Lythikos, he’d assumed that nerves over getting caught by Barthelemy and his allies had been why she hadn’t even looked him in the eye before she left the room.

But it was a much bigger mess than that. He’d known something was up when Riley didn’t hand Bridget over when she called and reached for him. Bridget seemed to like being with Drake more at the palace, probably because he held her more at balls and galas while Riley worked the room. For Riley to insist on keeping Bridget in her arms was odd. And then, the truth came spilling out. That Riley had planned to just… up and leave Cordonia. With his daughter. Without telling him a damn thing.

At first, all he’d felt was a swell of anger. But rapidly, a million other feelings had flooded his mind. Pain. Confusion. Guilt. Sadness. Longing. Concern. Protectiveness. And those were just the ones he’d noticed as he’d scrambled to follow her pleas and desperation. Even now that the initial shock was starting to wear off for him, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling. Too many things were competing in his mind.

All he knew was that he had to stick with his wife and kid. That had to be his number one priority. And so when Riley told him that she was leaving the country and taking Bridget, he knew he was going too. Even if he couldn’t fully understand her thought process at the moment, he knew she was just trying to protect their kid in the best way she could think of. So, he shoved the storm of emotions down and tried to be solid and steady, since it seemed like she was crumbling to pieces before his eyes.

Seeing her like that had been so strange. Even before, when Riley had cried about something in front of him, she’d never seemed out of control or desperate. Tears of righteous anger? Sure. Fear and anxiety? He’d seen that a few times as well. Even pure hormones during her pregnancy and postpartum period. But never had he seen her just panicking, her eyes wild and out of control, her whole body trembling just slightly. He’d never really seen anything like it before.

The closest comparison he could make was to the time he’d snuck out of bed when he was seven years old to grab a cookie and had stumbled on his parents fighting. It was the first time he’d ever seen them so much as disagree, and he’d been unable to go back to sleep that night, convinced his parents were going to split up. His mother had been in tears, begging his father not to take the promotion. The next morning, he and Savannah had learned that Dad had a new, more important job, so they would be living at the palace a lot going forward. At the time, Drake had thought his mother was just dumb. Moving in with Liam while Dad got a cool new job had seemed like a no-brainer as a child. Now, as an adult, he could look back on that moment and understand his mother’s fears and concerns. But watching his wife, who had been through so fucking much in her life, lost, unsure, and out of control had made him feel a bit like an unsettled and worried seven year old all over again.

Of course, he was now a grown ass adult, and he should not have been so thrown by his wife needing stability and support from him after the news they’d just faced. Hell, he should have known that the threat of having her child taken from her would hit her harshly, given the number of times her own mother lost custody of her. Riley was always so insistent she would be nothing like her mother, and it hadn’t even occurred to Drake that what Barthelemy was discussing would feel a little too similar for comfort. It should have, though. She had trusted him with the entire story of her childhood - her father’s abandonment, her mother’s addiction, her time in foster care - and he couldn’t even be bothered to think about how that might affect her when some asshole was threatening to take custody of their kid. 

He’d been worried about the big picture, what the goals of this fucking coup really were. What this meant for everyone. Meanwhile, he’d left his panicking, traumatized wife to worry first and foremost about their kid. And that’s why she hadn’t been planning to tell him until she already had Bridget somewhere safe, wasn’t it? Because she’d sensed that he wasn’t as solely focused on protecting their child, no matter the cost.

When had he become numb to the toxicities of court? When did that fucking happen? It seemed like it wasn’t that long ago he was telling Riley that court was going to chew her up and spit out her remains. But somewhere along the way, he got complacent. He’d found a few good people mixed in with the shitty ones, and suddenly it was all fine? He should have seen this coming a kilometer away. Someone is always scheming, plotting, maneuvering. Always. How had Riley absorbed all his early lessons while he somehow forgot everything he knew? He’d let them play him like a fool, standing there as they voted to take Bridget away from him and Riley and the crown away from Liam. Blindsided and sputtering, caught off guard. Like an idiot.

To be fair, there were still a few people he trusted at court. Liam, of course. Hana. Maxwell too, as his father’s actions had clearly caught him off guard. Besides, Maxwell had always been too earnest and accepting of everyone to have any desire to get caught up in something like this. And Olivia, oddly enough. She was clearly loyal as hell to Liam. And she’d worked with Riley to create a plan to keep Bridget with them. A plan that probably would have been a lost simpler than the shitshow they were about to face. 

Drake honestly had no idea how bad things were about to get, and based on the state Riley had been in out on the palace drive, she hadn’t given it any thought beyond feeling that having her daughter by her side was worth any price. But shit, this was probably gonna be a disaster. Their only destination was “Greece,” but it’s not like they had a place to go when they got there. Flying to Texas to hide out with Mom was out of the question since they didn’t have their passports and were therefore bound to the EU. Taking money from the accounts tied to their titles was morally questionable at this point, and it might not even be an option anymore, depending on who was running Cordonia at the moment and if they’d already moved to freeze the Valtorian accounts. Hell, his personal account, which didn’t hold that much, might be frozen, too. Their only funds that the government couldn’t touch was if Riley still had an American bank account, but something told Drake that a former waitress from a very expensive city wasn’t sitting on tens of thousands of dollars. And that didn’t even touch the fact that technically, Bridget was legally under Liam’s custody as a child in direct line for the throne.

Hell, even simple things. They didn’t have toothbrushes or toothpaste. Riley’s glasses or contact solution. A change of clothes. More than the dozen or so diapers that were left in the bag. Baby food. A pack n play or crib or even car seat. Shit, they literally couldn’t let Bridget out of one of their arms. They were going to have to figure out a way to buy some basics. And at the moment, Drake knew he needed to take care of some planning for Riley and him. She had already panicked enough without being confronted with the reality of her decision.

He glanced down at Riley, her head resting on his knee as she also slept. Within a half hour of being on the road, Riley had gotten very shaky, pale, and lightheaded, presumably dealing with the after effects of her adrenaline rush. Drake had encouraged her to lie down and take some deep breaths, and before long, she was lightly snoring. Given how broken and frantic she’d seemed, he wanted to let her get a little bit of rest before they dealt with the practical shit they were gonna need to address. But at this point, they probably needed to actually talk. Things weren’t going to get magically better, and he needed to get a sense of what she was thinking.

Shifting slightly, trying not to disturb Bridget, he settled his left hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze as he whispered, “Riley.” After several seconds, her muscles tensed, and her eyes blinked open.

“Sorry to wake you up,” Drake whispered, “but we gotta talk about some stuff.”

Riley stretched slightly before sitting up. “How long was I out for?” she asked as she rubbed her eyes.

“About an hour.”

“So we’re still in Cordonia?” she cast him a wary look at that.

“For the next 45 minutes or so, yeah.” Drake had been hoping to get some clarity from her on why Olivia’s Lythikos hideout plan was not an option for her, but based on the way she was looking at him, that topic was going to have to wait. He couldn’t have her panicking again. “That’s not what I wanted to discuss, though. I was just wondering if you had a destination in mind in Greece.”

Riley gave him a small smile as her shoulders visibly relaxed, but shook her head gently. “Not really. I thought maybe we could just head to the closest American consulate? There has to be a closer option than Athens, right?” she asked as she pulled out her phone and moved to open her map app.

“No, Riley!” Drake cried out, ignoring the little squawk Bridget gave out as he lunged for Riley’s phone. She looked at him with clear confusion, so he continued, “You need to turn off location services. Otherwise they will be able to track our location.” Since his little outburst had already woken up Bridget, he leaned to the side and tugged his phone out of his back pocket, turning off location services on his phone as well before rubbing his hand along the back of Bridget’s head, hoping to lull her back to sleep. After several minutes of murmuring soothing words to her, he could feel her getting heavier in his arms, and soon enough, her little eyes fluttered shut.

Once Bridget was asleep, Drake turned his head toward Riley. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I just didn’t want this all to be for nothing by giving them our exact location.”

Riley nodded, looking at a page of search results on her phone. “There’s a consulate in Thessaloniki, which is still a haul, but at least isn’t as far as Athens. How does that sound?”

Drake shook his head, “You had to renounce your American citizenship to be named duchess, remember? They aren’t going to be able to do anything for us.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed out a rough sigh. “Fuck,” she muttered, “That was my only plan.”

Sensing she was about to go back to that panicked state, Drake reached over, squeezing her knee in a manner he hoped was reassuring. “It’ll be okay. Ioannina is not too far from the border. We’ll be able to get a hotel there and lay low while we figure out next steps, okay?”

Although her eyes remained shut, she nodded, but a few stray tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes. Drake reached up and swiped them away with his thumb. This prompted Riley to open her eyes and turn more towards him, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Shhhh, we can take this one step at a time, Riley. This was never gonna go perfectly with how much that asshole fucking blindsided us,” Drake said, trying to be reassuring as he beckoned Riley to scoot closer and throwing his arm around her shoulders when she leaned up against his side.

“I just thought…” she began, but quickly trailed off when her voice started to quiver.

“I know. But we didn’t have much time to think it all through, did we?”

He felt her shaking her head against his side, so he decided to soldier on. “The way I see it, the first thing we’re gonna need to do is try and withdraw as much cash as we can from our accounts. That will prevent them from tracking our location, and if our accounts get frozen, we won’t be completely screwed.”

“Makes sense,” she whispered.

“After that, we need to stock up on some basic supplies. Diapers, toiletries, a change of clothes, some baby food, that sort of thing. We should also probably pick up a baby carrier so that we have a way to contain her but keep her with us. After that, we can find a cheap hotel, someplace where there’s little chance that someone is going to recognize a foreign duke or duchess. I think that’s a good enough start, don’t you?”

Riley just nodded, so Drake tightened his arm around her, trying to provide some comfort. “We’ll figure it out, Riley. We just gotta take it one step at a time.”

She let out a little chuckle. “When you met me, I had no problem traveling to a foreign country on a moment’s notice, not sure where I’d be staying, how long I’d be gone for, anything. It didn’t faze me in the slightest. But now, with her… I just… I’m worried, Drake. I know it’s impossible, but I want more of a plan.”

“I know. But I think this is as good as we’re going to get for now, alright?”

Before Riley could respond, Drake’s phone started buzzing and lit up on his lap. The name “Liam” flashed across the screen in white letters. Drake jerked his head around to look at Riley, her eyes wide as she reached for his phone. When he didn’t stop her or say anything, she grabbed it and swiped the red circle. But seconds later, the phone lit up again. She ignored that call as well.

“He’s not gonna give up, Riley,” Drake sighed, “It was only a matter of time before he was one hundred percent sure that we’d left the palace.”

“I know, I know. But please, can we wait to answer until we’ve crossed the border?”

“What difference is that going to make?”

She let out a big sigh before she spoke again, “He won’t be able to talk you out of doing it.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut. Again, she didn’t trust him. Again, she saw them as divided, with similar, but not the same priorities. He had to make her understand that if they were going to do this, they had to be in it together.

“Riley. If this is what you think we need to do for Bridget, this is what we are going to do, okay? Liam doesn’t get a say here. She’s our kid, not his. But we need to talk to him at some point, if only to figure out who is acting as king at the moment.”

“I know we do, but... please. Can we wait until we aren’t in Cordonia anymore?”

Drake knew they both had a lot to talk about here. This issue of her lack of trust in him wasn’t going away, and if they were fleeing the country and hiding out with basically nothing to their name, they needed to feel like they could rely on one another. But now was not the time for that discussion. So he just nodded and said, “Okay. We’ll wait,” before switching his phone to silent. Hopefully, that concession would allow her to trust him enough… for the moment.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr​

[creative-frequency]

Cal Kestis x Reader: DEAR STAR SYSTEM Ch. 03

Word count: 2945 Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Summary/Contains: First visit to Zeffo. Who am I kidding it’s just straight to lovers at this point. Let’s forget the friends first part. Mild angst, (partial) canon-rewrite. Notes: I struggled with the last scene, writing it over and over and editing it so many times but I think it finally (hopefully) conveys what I want now. Tagged some people either cause you asked for it or cause I thought you’d enjoy this. Lmk if you want to be tagged or not!

Previous Chapter

My Writing Masterlist

DEAR STAR SYSTEM // 03

“Ah, Zeffo. My favorite place,” Greez says dreamily and relaxes in his pilot’s chair.

The Mantis takes off from Bogano soil and you sit down, pretending to be focused on the map hovering on the holotable. Cal sits on the other side, equally preoccupied. You try not to look at him while knowing, feeling, that he’s definitely taking glances at you. BD-1 hops over to the holotable to have a better look at the planet you’re heading to.

Before you can think of anything to say to Cal, Greez has a story to tell.

“When this is all over, I think it’ll be a time to settle down, you know?” he continues, “Fall in love, start a family.” He sounds like Zeffo is exactly the planet he wants to spend his retirement days on.

You bite your lip and see how confused Cal is trying to make sense of the Latero. Greez is in one of those moods again.

“Love? You?” Cere voices out in bafflement.

“Yeah? You think a guy like me doesn’t know love?” Greez retorts slightly dejected.

“I bet you’re going to tell me,” Cere says, smiling.

You have to hide your grin behind your hand. Cere hasn’t had the pleasure of hearing about Greez’s adventures because she didn’t join you on that cantina trip on Tatooine. Cal gets up to lean to the cockpit doorway to hear better and even BD-1 turns around to listen and tilts his head.

Greez told you the story before after one too many and some bad situational judgment. There was someone he called the Baroness. You know it’s a fake name since she is still in politics. Wouldn’t have been much work in your previous occupation to dig out who the lady was, but you respect Greez’s privacy – despite your burning curiosity.

As Greez described it, they were deeply in love but eventually her career came between them, driving the lovers apart. Greez played it out as his wanderlust getting in the way but it wasn’t difficult to guess what the reason was really. You also suspect she played an important role in his decision to, if not quit, then at least gamble less. But those were thoughts you would take with you to the grave.

“Let me tell ya. It’s the best, but a lot of work. It needs admiration, devotion, attraction, and respect,” Greez explains with a straight face.

Cal turns to silently ask you is he being serious, but you shake your head fervently.

Cere is surprised by the pilot’s words. “Greez, that’s actually very insightful.”

“Yeah, well. It comes with experience. You can’t look this good and not steal a few hearts.” He must look impossibly complacent. Probably the same as when Cere complements his cooking.

“I bet,” Cere chuckles.

Cal turns to shoot another confused look at you, unsure whether to laugh or offer his sympathies to Greez. He points at the pilot with his thumb and mouths “what’s with him?” to you.

Deeming it best to just bite your lip harder, you tap the seat next to you. Hopefully the pilot will stop talking and focus on flying. It’s best if Greez doesn’t realize you’re pulling faces behind his back, or hear the Jedi questioning his mental well-being.

Cal smiles at your invitational gesture and an unexpected delight splashes inside you.

Before he sits down – closer than you anticipated – you scan him with an inconspicuous measuring look. He seems to be holding up alright considering all things. If stories about Greez’s love life are what get him to relax, so be it.

“Is he always so…” Cal starts quietly but can’t find the word he’s looking for. BD-1 tilts his head. Luckily Greez can’t see the droid on the sofa, again.

“Yes,” you still reply deftly.

You both chuckle as silently as humanely possible, shoulders shaking. You end up realizing you’re staring at Cal’s face, tracing the freckles with your eyes and how they move with his inaudible laughter. It’s the umpteenth time you catch yourself doing that and your quickened pulse gets harder to ignore.

Greez informs you to sit down because you’re about to make the jump to hyperspace. It throws you off enough to calm down. He seems to be done with talking about his love life, for now.

“Have you ever been to Zeffo before?” Cal asks.

You clear your throat to get rid of the last ripples of the tender sensation in your stomach. In the back of your mind you pin the feelings on the jump into hyperspace.

“I haven’t actually. Have you?”

“Nope.” Cal leans back and you follow his line of sight to the holomap of Zeffo.

The hologram of the planet is mostly covered in deep blue and dark green. The white-covered heaps signal snow-tipped mountains and while you’re definitely not a fan of snow, you haven’t seen it in a long time. Zeffo is apparently known for its strong winds and as testimony to that, several huge cloud vortexes cover the map. For once, you’re glad that you don’t have to fly.

“You must be always visiting new places,” Cal says and there’s a hint of jealousy in his voice. BD-1 makes a comforting boop. Cal has been stuck on Bracca for years – partly because of his own decision, but in terms of Imperial presence and living conditions, it wouldn’t have been his first choice.

“Sadly, not so much,” you sigh, “Turns out, that in order to listen to Imperial transmissions, one must stay relative close to the Imps…”

“That’s… understandable. I’m glad you found me. Solid timing,” Cal mumbles and casts his gaze down. The small droid nudges his side.

“I’m actually from Coruscant,” you blurt out to prevent the awkward mood. “Probably wasn’t born there but it was my home for a long time.”

“Oh?” Cal blinks surprised. “Do you have any family?”

“No, well, besides the one I left behind.” You shrug to signal it wasn’t a big deal. It isn’t anymore. Just the factual outcome of your choice to go with Cere.

Cal doesn’t ask anything more and you mentally reprimand yourself for opening your mouth in the first place.

//

After Greez’s majestic landing on Zeffo despite the strong winds, there is a short dialogue between the Mantis crew on how to proceed. Cere is concerned but knows that time is of the essence. Greez vows he won’t set a foot outside the ship. You sigh and hope that everything will go alright. The storms are interfering with the ship comms and while it’s worrying, there is no time to waste. The Empire might be at your heels without you knowing it.

Cal runs a hand impatiently through his hair. The faster he goes out there, the sooner you can leave. He cannot afford to wait for the comms to start working again.

“I’ll search for signs of Cordova in the meantime,” he says, already turned to leave.

Cere nods. “Good, I’ll be in touch once I crack this.”

Cal heads out into the wind. You pace after him to see the snowy scenery. It’s been a while since you were anywhere with so much winter. And there isn’t even much by the galaxy’s standards. It’s common knowledge that there are planets covered in ice and snow but so far you’ve managed to avoid them. You’re not so eager to get out there with Cal anymore.

“Cal?” you call out as he stays to look around too. You landed on a seemingly abandoned settlement in the eye of the storm.

“Yeah?” He turns to you with a curious look and BD-1 peeps from over his shoulder.

To shield yourself from the weather, you hug your cardigan and hide your hands between your arms and sides. The air is brisk and cold. Cal is wearing a woolen poncho over his clothes and you didn’t think anyone could look good in a poncho. Must be a Jedi thing.

“Be careful out there. You’ll be alone until Cere fixes the communications.” You glance at the lightsaber resting by his thigh and the brave small droid on his back.

“I will. You should head back inside.” He sees you shivering. BD-1 boops in agreement.

“Oh. I was just about to offer to go with you,” you jest and smirk.

Cal’s brows rise. “Really?”

“Mmmaybe some other time or planet. Somewhere warm,” you chuckle and stop your teeth from clattering. The wind bites all the way through to your skin. “I’ll go help Cere. Take care… Cal.”

“Fwoo woo!” BD-1 wishes you good luck.

Cal watches you until the ship doors close. The corners of his lips persistently stay turned upward.

“Beep-boo boooop.”

“W-what?” Cal yelps at the droid’s cheeky suggestion, “No, I don’t.”

“Beep-bo.”

“Okay, just a little. It’s nice to have a friendly face around.”

BD-1 titters and shakes. Cal scoffs. The wind feels colder with you gone inside so he would best get moving.

//

After the eye of the storm, you manage to find a moment of peace. Cal and Cere have agreed on the next step of the quest to rebuild the Jedi Order. Everyone is somewhat relaxed, bellies full and eyelids drooping. Greez sits on the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, talking with Cere in low voice about whether to land on a large meteor so you all can rest. You’re trying to repair an electrosword on the workstation in the back and Cal leans on the railing next to you, watching as you work with a constant confused frown on your features.

He doesn’t know how to bring up his proficiency in tinkering and fixing things. BD-1 boops and chirps on the table, dancing around the spare parts you’ve gathered. You wish you could understand his commentary better but you’re not exactly fluent in Binary.

“So where did you get that?” Cal asks and tries to not look too much or eagerly over your shoulder.

“Hm? I bought it in the Corellian Sector.” You pause. “On Nar Shaddaa.”

Cal cocks an eyebrow. He didn’t take you for the type to hang out in places like that. BD tilts his head.

You place the obstinately broken electrosword on the table and turn to look at Cal with a serious expression. “There’s a black market for lightsabers. Among other things. I… Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about that.” Your voice fades. How do you always end up saying the wrong thing with him?

Cal frowns lightly but his eyes stay on yours now that you’re facing him. “It’s okay,” he replies.

Cere sold the kyber crystal from her lightsaber on Nar Shaddaa. She asked you to act as the intermediary to avoid suspicion. The buyer, a delegate to some Hutt crime lord, apparently thought it hilarious to give you a broken electrosword into the bargain.

“Sorry,” you say again. That aching tender feeling is gaining foothold again and it’s getting annoying.

“Do you mind if I give that a try?” Cal nods towards the electrosword and straightens up from the railing.

“Be my guest.”

BD agrees heartily and from what you can understand, he thinks Cal is good at repairing things. You smile at the small droid and give room for Cal by the worktable.

The moment he touches the object, Cal visibly flinches. He squeezes his eyes closed as if under a migraine attack and his fingers spasm. Before you can properly realize something is wrong, the seizure stops and he lets the air out of his lungs in one heavy breath. Your heart is running rampant inside your ribcage.

You grab his arm to turn him towards you. He has gone pale.

“Cal? Cal? Are you okay?” you ask fervently, looking for signs of distress on his body.

Cal’s gaze swims before he can focus and bring a thin smile to his lips.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good. My bad,” he says and grimaces. You let go, slowly. He holds the electrosword up to inspect it better, acting perfectly normal again.

“Be-boop?” BD sounds concerned.

“I’m okay, BD. Really,” Cal assures the droid.

“What just happened?” you press, still a bit shaken.

Cal sees no point in hiding it. “I’m, well, psychometric. When I touch something, I may sense what’s happened to it.”

Your hands fly into the air and you stutter to find the words in a flush of anger, unable to believe that he would be so careless and reckless. “And you just touched an electrosword that’s been Force knows where,” you retort, not amused. You really want to give him an earful.

“Uh, yeah. Someone broke it on Nar Shaddaa.” Cal turns the electrosword around and finds a dent near the tip. “They didn’t last for long without it.” He talks in an even tone but the embarrassment shines through. His ears feel hot and he thinks you must consider him an idiot now.

You bite back the feral talking-to Cal is about to get and sigh. “That’s just horrible.”

Cal stays silent for a moment.

“At least I know you weren’t the one who broke it.” He smiles and you just stare the upward curve, baffled and blinking.

“Your boundless optimism is terrifying,” you assert and step closer to see better what he is doing to the electrosword. “Is there any hope to fixing it?”

Cal chuckles. “What did you just say about my boundless optimism? Yeah. I think so.”

You poke your elbow to his ribs and try to hold back a wavering grin. BD chirps at you.

Cal works with the electrosword as you watch from next to him, arms almost brushing together when he moves. Cal seems genuinely happy to be tinkering and you’ve completely forgotten your original intention of following the repairs to see how he does it. The new objective is to determine how often is too often to glance at his smiling face.

Cal finds it harder and harder to focus. You’re emitting warmth next to him and he is constantly overly conscious of every accident of your arms touching. The more he thinks about it, the more frequent the accidents get until you can stand it no longer and take half a step away. You’re trying to be discreet about it but you both notice the light step as well as if you had just jumped from the ship to avoid touching him.

In any case, it doesn’t help. The heavy mood only amplifies as it bounces back and forth between you and there has to be something you can say or do. Now.

“How does it work then? Can you touch any object and see its past?” you ask finally when your pulse has calmed down from the scare of Cal’s psychometry surprise seizure.

Cal has to collect his thoughts before answering. “Well, all things give off an emanation but that… concentration of the Force has to be strong enough for me to read.” He pauses and straightens up to look at you. “It’s… uhh, it’s hard to explain really.” It’s challenging to finish the thought since you’re still standing way too close and making him stutter in the process.

He looks unbelievably adorable and you throw all caution to the wind. He deserves to feel so abashed after the heart attack he gave you.

“So this…” You lightly take Cal’s free hand and press it against your chest between your collar bones. “Gives you nothing?”

His fingertips touch your neck, slightly calloused and unsure. Maybe even shaking. A rush of red rises to his cheeks and chills run down your spine.

“It doesn’t work on living beings,” Cal mumbles and looks away, utterly flustered.

A slightly snide, teasing smile rises to your lips. He seems so flummoxed. “I meant the necklace.”

His fingers curl around the small pearl and his brow furrows slightly. The touch is cool, careful in staying appropriate and almost makes you regret your impetuous flirting attempt. Your lousy shot at doing something to the heavy atmosphere, while getting back at him is backfiring. The fond and tender feeling just grows from the spot he brushed on your neck.

Cal closes his eyes and deftly ignores the warmth you radiate. He makes sure his fingers don’t touch your skin anymore. They’re tingling enough already. He focuses only on the Force.

Your necklace doesn’t spark any specific emotions. In truth, it feels somewhat indifferent to Cal in relation you. He sees it through a mirror, through your eyes and small wave of complacency, your emotion of complacency, fills him for a moment. It’s soothingly simple. He is relieved to notice how the borrowed feeling sways the flush on his cheeks and clears his head.

“It’s quite new. You bought it ‘cause you thought it was pretty,” Cal says softly. He lets go of the necklace and his hand drops. He backs away, taking purchase from the workstation.

You give him a crooked half-smile. “Makes me sound so vain,” you murmur.

He smiles back at you. “It is pretty–”

BD-1 decides to shower you with the blue scanning beam and you both swing around to look at the abrupt interruption, sternly reminded by the droid’s presence.

“Beeop! Beeop!” He chirps and jumps around the electrosword that still lies broken on the table – a kind notion to continue what you were supposed to do before the whole flirting charade began.

And not a moment later Cere appears on the doorway to ask are you two hungry. You can’t help but wonder did BD interrupt you on purpose while something strongly related to shame burns in your throat and makes it hard to face Cal’s gaze.

//

Next Chapter

Tagging: @sherniwrites @lucianhuntress @singlebecauseofthechocobros @sevansheart @owldearest @stellar-trinity @bd1babey @winchestergirl907 @thuutthuutbilly @rilakkyungsoo @lizbid33 @twistnet @fangirl-inthe-us @campmccarran @grandadmiral

[toxicpineapple]

Please give me your amami essay, I'd like to know the TEA! I was also gonna ask for the mastermind essay, but honestly I REALLY wanna hear your thoughts on his characterization (and your thoughts on his shitty fanon characterization)

HOOO BOY OKAY. this is good, it gives me an excuse to procrastinate on reading that new amasai fic on the latest feed. (note that i REALLY WANT TO READ IT, i’m just anticipating commenting and tbh the spoons,,, i lack them. it’s okay though i’ll get over it.)

so!!! let’s start with general attitude, because i think that amami’s is really unique. he’s a subversive character. in general i feel like that was the biggest goal with his character design and personality combination-- he looks like a total playboy, kaede even comments as much moooore than once. but he’s the absolute opposite. i’ll rant about that in a bit. i’ve already gone off on a tangent and i said i was gonna talk about attitude.

amami is laid back, but not to the point of complacency. y’know what i mean? like, he’s relaxed, but he’s on his guard, too. his speaking style is pretty casual (typically he’ll greet people with a “hey,” whenever he’s slightly uncomfortable he’ll probably say “haha”... this isn’t necessarily a canon thing but i like it when people have him talking in sentence fragments. ex. “forgot to grab my jacket” or “wanted to get a snack” sort of thing) and that’s just,,, the type of person he is. he’s casual. it’s remarkable considering how wealthy amami is-- though bear in mind, he still IS wealthy, so there are bound to be things he doesn’t understand about people-- that he can be so normal and like, down to earth, in a way. when people mess around with him he’ll probably just laugh it off.

to cite a fic i read once that had REALLY phenomenal characterisation, imo, ouma ends up dumping a bucket of water on amami’s head (on accident; there are some semantics and i won’t get into it but again the fic is really good and funny and you should totally read it) and amami just squeezes out his shirt and makes a couple cracks before walking away. (sorry this isn’t meant to be a “dumping love on fics” post but GOD that fic is hysterical.) he’s an enabler too, at least i think so-- remember that anthology chapter where kaede, shuichi, and kaito are trying to catch ouma and kaito sets an “amami trap” to stop him? all ouma has to do is flutter his eyelashes and go “pleeeaaase let me go amam~niichan!” and then he just. he does. what a fucking doormat i can’t believe him.

he’s like that though. i feel like big brother stuff is kind of his weakness. (and not in a kinky way alright i will destroy you. he might make a joke about having a sister complex in one of his ftes but he DOESNT that joke was just tasteless COME ON RANTARO WHFKLDSJFK) which brings me to his whole older brother thing, because like,,, YEAH. guy grew up with twelve younger sisters!!! and he remarked in his ftes with shuichi that they’re mostly step sisters, which means he just.... has a nurturing personality. i mean amami is somewhat conservative (if you try to come on to him during salmon mode you will be brutally rebuffed; amami tells u to keep your horny thoughts to yourself, though you shouldn’t be ashamed of having them) so i imagine he’s not the biggest fan of his father’s tendencies-- not that i don’t NECESSARILY interpret his father’s behaviour as him sleeping around.... it’s possible he just likes children and deliberately marries women who already have kids so he can take them... i mean it’s exceedingly decent to keep considering ur step children to be your children after a divorce so i have a hard time reconciling this common image of rantaro’s dad as some kind of player figure with the impression i got of him in my head but that’s just my daddy issues coming into play again so ignore me-- and yet he still considers all his sisters to be his sisters.

not to mention he feels a great deal of like, responsibility, when it comes to taking care of them. i find it impossible to believe that all the losses were his fault. you could ARGUE that the one he tells you about with his younger sister was to be blamed on him? but i mean, amami is a child. he didn’t even know his sister was following him out. sure he blames himself for it but there’s no real good way to blame him just considering that,,, he’s a kid. and he was so young-- he was obviously so young-- when it happened. so like, not to be all Good and Bad on you, but i do feel that amami is fundamentally a good reason. and you SEE that too, in the killing game. i’m certain he was on the fence about trusting that note he woke up with. would you trust it? he had no memory whatsoever of writing it, all he had were the words “ultimate hunt” and a map of the school to guide his way. i imagine he wasn’t even sure if he should do what the note said. but then ryoma started talking about sacrificing himself for everyone else, and rantaro probably thought, “well... if i have a way to get us out of here, even if it doesn’t work, i can’t just let ryoma sacrifice himself without having tried.”

rantaro is self-reliant too, i think. in the talent development plan mukuro remarks that she noticed he was injured a good number of times, but never said anything about it because she felt like he was trying to keep it under wraps. (note: good idea for an amami and mukuro friendship fic. must write. someone remind me.) i think amami kind of feels isolated from his classmates? either because he has these perceived notions of like, independence and whatever, not burdening anybody else with his problems (honestly not to go chabashira on main but wtf men ask for help c’mon i promise if you find a person who’s worth being in ur life they won’t treat you like shit for feeling ur feelings) or just because he’s not around a lot. i think amami is the type of person to invalidate his own problems a lot, or at least downplay them to others. he blames himself for all his sisters going missing, took the responsibility to find them all. you know the blow that’s going to be to his education? traveling around the world looking for twelve different people? and he plans to keep doing that!!! forever!!! ugh ;-; poor babey. but anyway i feel like he doesn’t want to tell anybody about his problems because he feels like it’s his thing to deal with.

i also believe that rantaro is a bit prideful. i mean, anyone can be prideful under the correct circumstances, and in fact there is a great deal of pride that simply isn’t addressed by the fandom in analysing characters and that makes me really sad because pride is such a SEXY character flaw but i’ll leave that alone for now. he hates being told to give up on what he’s doing. i mean everyone in his life has been telling him to stop looking for his sisters. that’s got to suck, but also, DAMN look at what his reaction was. this utter refusal to open up to anybody. shuichi’s ftes with him are spent pretty much just trying to get amami to stop squirreling around and actually TALK to him. amami asks shuichi at one point if he has any siblings and when the response is negative, amami immediately assumes that shuichi wouldn’t understand, would tell him to quit. just like everyone else.

(i mean, even with kiyo and mukuro, whose circumstances mirror his almost painfully at least in willingness to sacrifice stuff for their siblings, he doesn’t tell them what he’s doing, just that he’s doing it for his sister-- singular-- and that he would do anything for her. kiyo and mukuro!! out of ANYBODY, they would understand. in tdp they DO talk about it-- kiyo encourages him to keep searching-- as his friend...... fuck amaguji is such a good ship even if the implications of kiyo saying he wants to meet rantaro’s sister after he finds her bc she must be suuuuch a good person if he’s doing all this for her are uhhh not great-- and mukuro immediately understands when he says it’s to do with his younger sister. like, full stop. she just goes “okay” and goes serious. all at once. damn rantaro, mukuro, and kiyo really do be a power trio huh. i need to write more fic about them i miss them.)

this is more into baseless conjecture so take this as you will, but i also think rantaro is kind of,,, easily distracted lmao. he mentions helping out a village with a disease-- been a while since i’ve seen his ftes, sorry for any inconsistencies-- among other shit and like... bro what are you DOING. you have sisters to find. and he can’t be getting injured all the time, getting wrapped up with gang violence and all that, looking for people who were lost traveling. i mean sure, you could say they went all over the world and got wrapped up in all sorts of mess, but more likely they stayed in roughly the same area, waiting for him to come back. and also? i have a hard time believing his sisters were lost in these remote forest places people always put them. COME ON, who the fuck goes to some village for a vacation? a RICH person no less. i’m on another tangent. sorry. but yeah, i love the people who write rantaro as an absolute airhead. i headcanon that he has no way of judging the passing of time and thus is the absolute worst in the bathroom bc he sits there for twenty minutes thinking about the universe and then walks out like “:) ok ready to go” like wtf are you even doing there stupid akljdf anyway.

i think rantaro is softhearted and thoughtful. in his ftes with kaede he demonstrates an ability to look past what people show at surface level-- you can ask him about miu, kiibo, or kiyo and he’ll give u Good Fucking Insight(tm)-- and analyse their intentions more closely. and i mean this is just from a couple day’s interaction. he’s down to earth for sure, understanding when people are intimidated but also caring and observant. (his “talk about a first impression” line is so fuckaindgf.... good for his characterisation. i love romantic amamatsu but he so clearly takes an older brother role in those ftes, he’s really such a sweetheart,,,, hnadhfkj ;w;) rantaro is just. he’s patient with people. and selfless and kind. idk it’s all the good stuff. warm smiles and indulgence. all the way. probably lets kokichi steal his lunch.

THAT BEING SAID: i think rantaro also has a very serious streak. he doesn’t show it a lot but there are moments. he’s self-sacrificing-- i mean, obviously. he was the ultimate survivor, after all. some people hc that he got there by killing, or maybe everyone else in his game died but one person, but bro that doesn’t make any sense???? no. what happened was there were probably like three people left, and monokuma was like “one has to be sacrificed” and rantaro thought, welp. it’ll be me then. and i wouldn’t say the choice would be immediate because rantaro DOES has self preservation instincts-- he’s only human-- but i don’t think he’d have let anybody else make that decision. i think ultimately he would try to protect other people.

he can be scarily confrontational too. i do believe he’d usually only do it in the defense of others-- like, his base instinct is to protect. i read a fic once (oumami, unfortunately) where ouma was committing crimes and went to hide behind rantaro and rantaro instinctively moved to protect him, and that’s.... that’s good characterisation. point one to the oumami stans, point zero to me. motherfucker. (love u oumami stans, it’s just not my thing.) i really like it in fics when he’s stern, lecturing people for hurting other people, but i also think rantaro is too understanding to be truly unforgiving. like if two people got into an argument and one came out of it more hurt than the other, i don’t believe that amami would be unsympathetic to the less hurt one. i think he’s mature enough to take a look at the situation and go, well, okay.

i think he’d be TERRIFYING when angry. he’s patient, y’know? so it takes a lot to get him to that point. he’s really, ah, accommodating of people. puts up with a lot of bs kind of thing. but i imagine the best way to get him to snap is by hurting someone he cares about. and at that point: ur fucked. i’ve never written it before because i’m terrified of what i’d do with that kind of power but.... imagine the shuichi whump. holy god.

i’m NOT here to talk about shuichi whump (though i’m down to do that any time of day believe me) so i’m gonna like. shhhhiiiiiiffft.

i project on characters a lot so at this point it’s difficult to distinguish if some of my characterisation things are like, actually characterisation things? or just me venting, so like, take nothing i say as canon, but also,,, akdsjf we love a man who bottles up his emotions.

because rantaro just doesn’t have the TIME to be crying all over the place. he was probably a total wreck when he lost his first sister. and his second. and maybe even his third. but then he started to gather his composure, more and more. because if there’s anything that rantaro has in excess, it’s composure. the more losses he suffers the more of a shield he builds up. and the self hatred and the guilt and the blame and the responsibility are piling up and up and up, but god he hates it when other people see him sad, because he needs to be the strong one, he can’t just pile that up on other people. that’s not their weight to carry, and besides, he’s the older brother, he should be able to deal with his own problems. he’d just be burdening the people he cares about by letting them see his demons.

and then he doesn’t have any coping mechanisms because he never lets himself feel enough to cope, and when people get close enough to actually CARE about him, when people notice he’s upset or struggling and offer him help, he doesn’t know how to deal with it-- and god he hates lashing out at people but it’s so much easier to deal with the consequences of being mean than the consequences of breaking down. only conflict is scary when he’s one of the causes so he needs time to recover, and well, what better way to do that than to get on a plane or a boat and go look for his sisters? after all he’s wasting time whenever he’s just sitting around, they’re still out there and he needs to find them, so might as well just keep pushing himself to the limits, because it’s his fault they’re lost anyway...

something mukuro said to rantaro in the talent development plan stuck in my brain. like, initially it’s just a funny and cute interaction (rantaro even blushes and a blushing rantaro is a GOOD FUCKING RANTARO) but when i thought about it more i was like.... huh. hm. angst ideas. mukuro makes a joke about rantaro going over to her stand at the festival to flirt with her-- i think that’s the context, i know it’s play-boy related-- and rantaro assures her (as he always does) that he’s not that kind of guy, and mukuro agrees, saying she was just pulling his leg and that he seems like the kind of person who gets dumped because he doesn’t show his emotions enough. rantaro laughs, blushes, and says “haha, not touching that one,” and akdjfnnnnnn god mukuro you’re so blunt i love you fkdjf but wow. i usually have rantaro as not having dated anyone, just because i feel like he kind of hyperfocuses on finding his sisters? and given that he’s like sixteen (seventeen at the MOST) there’s not much of a timeline for when his sisters got lost. in my fic search i had to cram all the losses into a four-year period and damn that was rough. anyway i just don’t think he’d really prioritise romance. but that reaction implies that that’s EXACTLY his experience with romance, which makes a bit of sense because mukuro is ridiculously sharp, and also it’s,, it’s just sad idk poor rantaro. getting dumped because he’s like the emotional equivalent of a doorknob when it comes to his own feelings.

i do think rantaro is a bit cowardly. not in the sense that he’d shy away from danger-- i think he’d RUSH INTO IT HEAD FIRST because he’s a man or whatever, i know he respects women but he does seem to hold some of those very stereotypically masculine ideals of constantly protecting those around him, which is like.... ok toxic masculinity mcgee can u and kaito stop throwing hands every time u see each other ty-- but more in the sense that he avoids,,, confrontation. emotional confrontation just ain’t his thing. and i think he’d rather run away from it or otherwise find some way of ignoring it than try to address his problems.

he would, with that in mind, probably try to associate with people who don’t push the matter. kiyo and mukuro, for example. they both have a fair amount of baggage themselves so they’d probably be respectful. ryoma is lowkey enough that he just, he wouldn’t bring that shit up, that’s uncool. i also think rantaro would get along REALLY WELL with kaito, and i actually don’t think kaito would pull his sidekick stuff with him? just because in a way they’re kind of kindred spirits, and i think kaito would see an ally in rantaro before seeing someone to try to nurture, so they’d probably have some kind of a truce like, if you don’t force me to be vulnerable, i won’t force you. one of the reasons why i love amamota so much is because it involves the two of them growing to care about each other beyond that sort of unhealthy camaraderie and breaking down each other’s barriers and i just..... hhnnfhhdkfj they could be so good for each other but nobody wants to talk about thatjslfkj

you weren’t asking for my amamota mess lmao sorry anon i get sidetracked SO easily. but yeah, amami gravitates towards people who wouldn’t try to get him to be more honest with himself. and i honestly think the v3 cast would be pretty good about that overall, except for shuichi who is a detective and has a habit of sticking his nose in places it shouldn’t be, but i see no reason to write that out because amami’s ftes already display that beautifully. (well, that’s a lie, i’m absolutely plotting out a slowburn in my head already that involves shuichi stripping down his walls one by one, but forget about all of that rn we don’t need to talk about why amasaimota is my ot3.) also he is softer on childish people like ouma and himiko. ain’t nobody wants to TALK TO ME about how brilliant it would be if rantaro and hiyoko were friends because hiyoko has such problems in that department and he would take one look at her and go hm. i’m adopting her. and he’s so fucking patient and nice and she’d lose the will to make fun of him and i have to do ALL THE GODDAMN WORK AROUND HERE but it’s fine. at least i get to write it.

i’ve described the fundamentals of his characterisation pretty well by now i think. i have some throwaway headcanons, like uhh,,

he’s claustrophobic

plays the guitar and the ukulele

he prefers warm weather and perishes in the cold

high pain tolerance

he’s a Good Cook

doesn’t like sex jokes (they make him uncomfortable)

asexual (i do like a good demisexual hc at all times of day tho)

master of piggyback rides

does his own piercings

impulsive as hell

gets lost easily but can always find his way back

has a lot of scars from travels

hands are rough and calloused (again from travels)

morning person

smells like evergreen (you know i had to, you know i did)

Radiates Heat Like A Fucking Toaster Oven

good hugs

hates tying his shoelaces

likes being the big spoon :)

has a tongue piercing

i said “some throwaway headcanons” but i ended up listing way more than i mean to. i’ll make a separate list of my rantaro headcanons someday and talk about them all in detail but for now, uh, there’s that.

SO AS FOR THE RANTARO CHARACTERISATIONS I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE:

god where to fucking begin. actually i know exactly where to begin. it’s my least favourite one just because, like i said at the very beginning, rantaro is a subversive character. i mean i think he’s kind of a low hanging fruit when it comes to that. there are plenty of other subversive characters in the dr series but rantaro is like that. you expect a flirt and u get,,, a sweetheart. but then some people (usually the ones who ship him with female characters exclusively though i will see it on occasion in an amasai or oumami fic) decide to throw that out the window and make him a total playboy!! and listen, i have no problem with people who are a little flirty. we’re kids!! flirt ur heart out!!! and hey, that’s not what this is about but y’know what? so long as everything is safe, sane, and consensual, then yeah!! exercise your sexual freedom and sleep with whoever you want to!!! i don’t think there’s anything wrong with messing around a little, dating who u wanna and experimenting with ur tastes and preferences. if rantaro WAS a playboy, then there would be nothing wrong with that. i would love him just the same because he’s such a fundamentally GOOD character.

except that.... he’s.......... NOT. you slaughter one of the biggest aspects of his character by throwing away what matters to him and making him some hunky-deep-voice-dreamboat dude meant to sweep kaede/tsumugi/whomsteverthefuck off her feet. rantaro is one of those characters where he’s so blatantly not that kind of person, and it’s like. it’s an affront, almost, to portray him that way? and i do believe you should have the freedom to write what you want, since we’re in that age (aside from romanticised pedophilia and incest; that shit ain’t cute, i say this often but pro-ship DNI) where u should be able to take some liberties, but it’s just. hnnn. it’s so frustrating. rantaro does not know how to smolder! if he DID smolder, he wouldn’t even realise he was doing it. he doesn’t have people lying at his feet, okay? he’s too flaky for that. i wouldn’t say he’s unreliable but he definitely ain’t at school as much as he should be.

another one that i hate: st-stalker? what the fuck? that is not sexy that is creepy and weird?

another another one that i hate: yandere? what the FUCK??? that is not sexy that is glorified ABUSE???? the yandere trope is AWFUL bc you’re taking a controlling relationship and turning it into a fetish. NO. if he limits ur contact with other people, if he follows u everywhere, if he threatens ur loved ones, if he tries to control you, ladies and gents and nonbinaries, he’s not a yandere, he’s an abuser and you need a fucking restraining order. actually, people of ANY gender or sex can perpetuate this behaviour and IT IS NOT CUTE. I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT BOUNDARIES U SET IN PLACE, IF YOUR FREEDOM IS BEING RESTRICTED THAT IS ABUSE.

hate it when people make rantaro violent. hate it when people make rantaro a murderer. hate it when people make rantaro controlling. hate it when people make rantaro overtly sexual. some kind of sultry deep voice dominant kind of figure. dude, what the fuck? i don’t,, want to make any public comments about sex positions because i think that’s kind of Strange to just talk about on a post, but i do think that the way people portray him for their smuts is,,, idk it’s weird. i’m not gonna kinkshame u but like. :eyes:

i will however accept rantaro as a thrillseeker, or a highstrung rich boy, or a total space cadet, or a himbo, or a cryptid. these are all very good interpretations of the Mans. just, like. be wary of making him two dimensional. a good character is multifaceted. if you can take a trait that clashes with all of these and SELL ME ON IT, i will buy it. if u give me good justifications, or even just good writing?? then i will accept it.

the long and the short of it is, anon, he’s my favourite so i think about him a lot. i love writing rantaro. he’s just, he’s a Guy. y’know? He’s A Good Dude, If You’ll Give Him A Shot. :) we don’t get to see very much of him but i think that there’s plenty of material if you overanalyse everything, which, as you probably all know by now,,,, i absolutely do.

thank you for the ask, this was a delight to spend an hour talking about.

[riskeith]

HIIII hope you have been well my dearest last airbender hehe. i have so much exciting things to share <333

so first off, i did two wish rolls the other night and guess what? on one roll i got BOTH bennett AND qiqi!!!!!! (the other one was just weapons but 🤷🏽‍♀️) i love them both so much i literally ascended them the second i got them. i still can’t believe my luck. so now my team looks like: traveller, noelle and those two. i’m having a little issue bc i don’t have a long range combat character but i love them all too much to change anything. which means i struggle sometimes maybe if i roll for someone else in the future i might change but rn i’m LOVING them. have you ever had luck like that?

AND i started watching haikyuu again and i forgot how funny it is. i usually don’t laugh out loud while watching things but i was literally chuckling while watching some moments. i’ve only watched 10 eps-ish but i fell in love with it again at the first ep already. i cant believe i dropped it before i’m so stupid.

ok that’s all the updates i had hahaha ! i was like buzzing waiting to tell you lmaidhdhdbd 🥺

oikawa is SO pretty it’s insane. when he showed up i was like yeah.... that’s him. that’s the pretty boy. but then again pretty much everyone is pretty in haikyuu who the hell are we supposed to focus on hehdhd the art style is just that good yk?

ships that have silent (+ points for angry) yearning are just superior. and usually they fall in the enemies/rivals category which is lovely. nothing is finer than watching people struggle with their feelings like mmmmmm... tasty. also as good as rareships can be, popular ships are popular for a reason yk? like canon content isn’t everything ofc but if canon can back it up in some way more people tend to be interested heh

wanna know something super weird? when i consume content i always fall for the stotic bois with angst backstories first but after i finish the shows i always miss the cute happy babies and that makes me obsessed with them? idk it’s crazy like voltron for example keith is literally my favorite character of all time but when i finished voltron i was literally bawling bc i missed lance so much help

well i guess we’re talking about voltron now HAHA 😭 dude s3 was a fucking blessing i can’t believe we got that and they just cut it off cold. the leader and his right hand man dynamic makes me yell to this day 😭😭😭 remember all the scenes where they continuesly reassured each other 😭 the ‘leave the math to pudge’ scene lives in my head rent free no joke dhdnhdbdud... s3 was just them loving each other tenderly and dw stole it from us.. ALSO PLEASE WRITE THEM AGAIN LITERALLY BEGGING 😭 pls 🥺

dude our government doesn’t give a shit we literally have politics traveling around and chilling without masks. they don’t care at all we barely have any restrictions so people don’t care either. it’s a mess here ngl.. :/

can’t wait to hear from u again... mwah!

hi hi!!!! is this gonna end up being 2 replies in one day for you again HAHAHA i’ll try not to disappear after

!!!!!!!!!! QIQI AND BENNETT??!!?!!!!!!!! oh my goodness… oh my goodness!!! i can’t believe you got a 5 star before me fjskskkdd but big deserve 😭😭😭😩😩😩 i’m so happy for you nejdnskamxlxmm holy shit!!!!! that’s so cute tho that’s such a cute team… and big mood!! who cares about team dynamics/fighting styles all that matters is that you like them 😩 but also does that mean you currently have 3 sword users and 1 claymore on your team jdjsndnsm. i also used to not have a ranged fighter on my team but it just got so inconvenient lolol. and no my luck is actual ass :( so often i only roll weapons, and when i do roll charas it’s like. all the base free ones djdkskdk

haikyuu is SO funny!!! everyone’s humour is so >>>> omg they’re just silly boys… are you restarting it from the very first ep? and it’s all good if you dropped it before bc you’re coming back to it now and that’s what matters 😩 keep me updated tho! i’m so excited to hear what you think

HFJDNSKSN sorry i went mia and made you wait chksjs WHICH REMINDS ME!! omg i’ve been meaning to tell you and keep forgetting but i downloaded genshin on my phone last week for my trip and it’s so??? difficult? like mad mad respect to you for being able to play on mobile omg… maybe it’s just bc i was used to pc already but damn.. djsjjs

HAHA yeah just admiring the visuals instead of focusing on the story.. we’ve all been there 😩 sometimes you just gotta rewind and take 48394993 screenshots of the one scene you know? who let them be so gorgeous..

yesssss the mutual oblivious pining is so good.. like they’re enemies to lovers but they’re also IDIOTS to lovers… or my fave headcanon which hurts so bad… the one person (keith) pining for their rival (lance) but it’s unrequited and they’ve just accepted that and are kinda resigned to it but. they just want them to be happy above all else :’) :’(

and honestly you are so right like if the popular ship are foils and have all these parallels between them and a deep backstory and stuff that’s so good too there’s so much food AHAH

omg that’s kinda cute tho.. like once you’re done you enter the honeymoon phase w bubbly outgoing charas.. (speaking of honeymoons when’s ours 🤪) speaking of lance he deserved everything lmao.. he deserves everything PRESENT TENSE!!! wow we are really talking about vld in 2021 huh

LEAVE THE MATH TO PIDGE!!! I AM SCREAMING JUST THIBKING ABLIT THIS TOO!! WHAT THE FUCK DOCYOUCMEAN KEITH. WHY DIDNYOUCSAY IT WITH THAT SMILE. LANCE WHY DIDNYOU SMILE LIKE THAT IN RETURN. LEAVE THE MATH TO- KEITH EXPLAIN??? WHA WERE YOU WDOIDJGNDKDNSKFKDKFNDNNCMS the way that lance went from ‘despising’ keith and hating being beaten by him in everything to SEEKING OUT HIS ADVICE AND COMFORT???? IF THAT ISNT GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT I DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS like their relationship progressed so so so so so so so so SO much in that one single season… like. i cannot BELIEVE that was real???? no fucking way. like. we were literally so close.. SO FUCKING CLOSE!!!!!!!! my god the trust they had in each other..… LANCE SEEKING KEITH OUT!!! lance accepting keith as the leader before even keith accepted himself EVEN WHEN LANCE HIMSELF SO DESPARATELY WANTED TO BE THE BLACK PALADIN bUT RECOGNISING IT WASNT WHAT THE BLACK LION WANTED AND i have to stop or else i’ll literally never stop typing chskdkdkndcuksncjxjskcoskosnaksj

hhhhhhh i wanna write them sometimes i get hit with the feels SO SO BAD (like just then? LOL) but i haven’t properly written them in so long i feel like i don’t even know how to anymore D; but anyway do you have any prompts? i have so many wips (i have one fic that i said was gonna be my Final klance fic but lmao i’m never gonna finish it at this stage so i guess i’m also not done writing klance? lmao) but after a while i just. have no desire to go back to them anymore fjdjjx so something new might spark my motivation! but also no promises sorry i always say i’ll do shit but never do JEKSKS altho i will try!! i’ll try bust out at least a drabble even if it ends up as an unfinished wip as well lol 😩

oh fucking rip that’s so horrible i’m so sorry you have to deal with that :((( legit it’s so upsetting to see so many governments just. complacent and not caring about this issue at all like?? this is your job? you’re literally meant to be doing all these things to help us right now and you’re just not. which i guess unfortunately also makes sense bc they’re the ones who would suffer least. it’s so frustrating lmaoooo >:(

:***** i’ve stayed up again bc i am Not intelligent fjskdk but i’m looking forward to your response!! goodnight and sweet dreamssss (for when you next sleep LOL) 💗😘

[bigskydreaming]

How did you come up w/ the worldbuilding of By Lost Ways? Cause going by chapter 1 and your posts on the deck, it's fascinating and super well thought out!

LOL thanks! And yes I will be getting back to that now that I can like....actually enjoy feedback/comments from stuff I post instead of just posting and two seconds later be in crisis mode and completely forgetting I even just did that lol.

But in answer to your question, you know how there are novels like Fifty Shades of Grey and City of Bones that are basically fanfic with the serial numbers filed off, as some people call that? This is basically just the exact opposite. It was an original novel that was part of a bigger shared fantasy universe of mine called the Citadel, that I ended up not doing anything with because it had too many (superficial) similarities to another novel of mine, even though the latter was a sci-fi project. They actually werent that similar, just used a lot of the same aesthetics and tropes, like both had airships, etc, it was one of those things where they just FELT too similar when writing them, and that was causing complications in doing anything further with them so I decided to just let one go, and it happened to be the fantasy one, since I had a bunch of other projects in that same universe that I could shepherd various characters and elements over into.

But one thing I couldn’t ever really relocate was the idea of the Regents’ Deck, which was always a fave concept of mine, and then awhile back it occurred to me that the Batfam was actually really really easy to structure into the already existing framework of the Regents’ Deck and the overall world I’d built around it, and so I was like hey, Im not doing anything else with it, why not just make it a Batfam fanfic. So the story that resulted was a new thing, its not like I just swapped the names around, the plot of Hypotheticals of Being just didn’t work for a Batfam fic, at least not in any way that really engaged me, but it kinda just.....it was almost more like writing a crossover fusion of two fandoms, just one of them happened to be wholly of my own making, lolol. But basically like, the actual fanfic was just sorta like me writing another story in this same setting/lore that I’d already written one novel in, just with the Batfam characters instead.

As for the worldbuilding itself, in the initial form, like, worldbuilding is literally my favorite thing in the world lol, and also I happen to view as probably my biggest strength as a writer, so if there’s interest, I’d be down to do a post walking through kinda my whole ‘process’ there or whatever. Since I do have a certain approach I apply to pretty much everything I write, from fanfic to original projects, its just so ingrained its hard to kinda break it down into clear steps. But give me three things to use as a start point, and I’d be happy to kinda like, do a post ‘showing my work’ as I worldbuild around them.

The three things thing is kinda key for me, as I dont know entirely where it comes from or why I started doing it, I just noticed somewhere along the line that every fully formed project or world I create that I’m actually happy with, like....can always be traced back to three initial ideas I threw together. I’m not exactly sure why three is the magic number for me, it just kinda is.

For example, the world and initial story for this one grew out of these three seeds: Mother Sky, a Tarot Deck, and airships. Those were the three elements that popped into my head as wanting to do something with, and that I combined to come up with this world. (Mother Sky being like.....so I was thinking about all the various takes we have on Mother Earth, and I was wondering what would a world look like that viewed the Sky in the same way, like potentially if it was a fantasy sky-set civilization instead of land-bound).

So the basics of the world all grew out of just those three ideas, and then it was easy enough to flesh out by leaning on a lot of already existing worldbuilding for my broader Citadel mythology, to create the exact specifics of the plot/conflict. Not really relevant to the fanfic version now, as the focus on that stuff is most of what was cut when adapting it to Batfam, since I still have lots of Citadel stuff not related to this one particular project.

Like the basic idea behind the Citadel is that in this fantasy universe, the universe itself has a kind of rudimentary sentience, that constantly seeks out a kind of partner or symbiosis with sentient beings to kinda...drive its power. Like, its aware enough to know that it wants to grow and change and evolve, but relies on the imagination and creativity of sentient beings to do that. So it centralizes its powers of creation in a form that appears to most sentient beings as a kind of fortress or citadel, a seat of power, and anyone who enters it and assumes control over it, in effect becomes god. Able to reshape the universe and create anew according to their whims. And sometimes there’s just one person who stumbles across the Citadel, sometimes a pair or a trio, sometimes a full pantheon, with various individuals assuming sovereignty over set Rooms within the Citadel, and the forces those Rooms command (like gaining the Armory makes one a god of war, the Library a god of knowledge, etc, etc). 

But for all their power, the various residents of the Citadel rarely ever glean on to the fact that the Citadel is kinda ‘alive’ in and of itself, and the true power behind all the power they wield. And the one thing the Citadel detests is stagnancy. So whenever a god or gods or pantheon becomes complacent, stops USING the power of the Citadel as a force for change, stop driving the engines of creation to beget something new and instead just become content to kinda enjoy what they’ve made or reshaped things INTO.....that’s when the Citadel basically takes back its power and reappears as a temptation on the horizon for new seekers to find and ascend to godhood.

Anyway, the point being there’s been an endless cycle of the Citadel changing hands and everything that comes with it, up until what’s basically the beginning of this broader universe.....the ‘last’ residents of the Citadel are a full-fledged pantheon who were so destructive in their attempts to seize more and more control of the Citadel for just themselves or their allies, that they were basically destroying their entire world without any single one of them having control of enough of the Citadel that they could prevent this. Until one of them, Seshan, finally gained control of the Throne Room, the heart of creation, and using its power she basically locked all the other gods in their respective Rooms and broke the entire Citadel into pieces, flinging the others away into the void of uncreation. So for the thousands upon thousands of years since then, the various other gods have been able to create using just the power of their own Rooms, and move between each others’ various worlds, but are denied access to the Throne Room or the world it rests on, the world of their own creation.....and without it, none of them can put the Citadel back together and assume full control of it.

Or, y’know, restart the cycle of creation and destruction. Something the Citadel itself, unbeknowst to any of them, is really not happy about.

So you’ve got some gods who are content with things the way they are and happy being the only god in town in their respective worlds, you have others who are trying to use their worlds to one by one conquer the others’ and thus gain control of their Rooms, trying to gather enough power to kinda just force their way back through the locked doors to the Throne Room, and then you’ve got others who basically have been using eternity to settle old scores and grudges.

The latter happened to be the backstory for the setting for what became By Lost Ways - hence why it wasn’t too hard to pull these particular elements out and shift them to other settings. The original Mother Sky, the creator of this world, is in the Citadel-verse named Eriu, and she’s the supreme nature goddess of earth, sea and sky, being one of the most powerful of the deities with control of three separate Rooms. She used the Aviary to make this particular world, hence its magic being connected to and stemming from feathers, etc. The Dark One, the original Joker of the Regents’ Deck, is Dian, who controls the Pit and the Locked Room, and as such is the God of Temptation and Emptiness, Hunger and Corruption.

(Dian’s machinations back during the Holy Wars basically shattered the mind of Eriu’s lover, Indech, as Dian tried to manipulate him into gaining control of one of the most dangerous Rooms in the Citadel and use him as a proxy without risking himself. It half worked, as Indech gained control of the Room that made him the new God of Chaos, but in the process turned from the somewhat naive, gullible scholar Dian had been counting on him being, to someone just completely detached from anything other than his own interests - which were now fueled by the primal powers of chaos and his new worldview/conviction that nothing he did mattered and thus he could do anything free of consequence. Indech’s as distant and unreachable to Eriu as anyone else, and she’s had a vendetta against Dian ever since....which often takes the form of a merciless nature goddess rampaging through the worlds of Dian’s creation, heedless of the damage she leaves in her wake, as the more millennia pass, the more disassociated the gods become from their own origins. Some have even bought into their own hype and forgotten that they aren’t the only gods out there or even the first).

But anyway, that’s the story of how the worldbuilding for By Lost Ways came to be, lol, though for specifics on like, the actual process as opposed to the big picture stuff, just send me three things and I’ll walk through things from the start to whatever results.

For the record, I want to make clear I’ve been writing stuff in my Citadel ‘verse since I was fifteen, so any similarities to Brandon Sanderson’s shared universe are not incidental, but they’re also not me ripping him off - rather, I’m fairly certain we were both influenced in our worldbuilding/big picture stuff by the same novels when we were growing up. Like, its not that I’m above ripping other people off, its just that I want credit to go where its due. I ripped off Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman and a little Michael Moorcock and some Zelazny. LOLOL.

[glottia-arts]

Sweet smells lead to sweet memories

What do you mean I can write for other fandoms?

This writing piece is just something based on this drawing that @emizel did, so it's a little short. Probably should have asked more about what Hilda was like, both alive and dead, but I guess I'll die in a volley of arrows.

Word Count:  2,526 _____ 

“W-we’ll be back! Lord Zarok’s wishes will be met!”

Turning tail with their leader slumped over their shoulders, the team of Boiler Guards fled from the battlefield created by their superior and would be hero of Gallowmere.

Said hero sighed in relief as he slumped to the ground, exhausted from the battle that had just taken place. Practically every one of Dan’s energy vials had been depleted from that attack. Taking out his last flask, it was clear how close he was to losing this fight. The remaining vial looked to be filled about twenty percent. Removing the cork, he toasted to his own self victory before downing the odd healing substance.

The commander of the Boiler Guard troops, Kesten, certainly was a wild card. At first, the metal menace faked him out with his standard rifle, before moving close. The attacks alternating between hitting the skeleton with said weapon or roundhouse kicking him where his gut used to be. Once Daniel began to use his crossbow and regular bow to keep the guard at a distance, he grew surprised.

Kesten tossed aside his rifle in favor of his newly displayed weapons, two knives. Chef knives at that. Daniel wasn’t one to judge, he used his arm as a weapon from time to time. Heck, he even received Chicken legs from the witch of the Enchanted Earth. So blades utilized for the culinary arts weren’t too odd of a thing.

Daniel’s long distance weapons were rendered useless once those came out. The Boiler Guard batted aside the projectiles and even sliced through a few of them. Kesten made short work of his health, it was practically laughable. Daniel almost didn’t have time to ingest one of his health vials, but with the interference of his companion, Hildegard, he seized his chance of recovering.

The mage’s distraction had worked, a little too well. Kesten’s sights turned on her and he rushed at the undead as quickly as he had Daniel. The skeleton attempted to follow, but the metal guard reached her first. It confused him that he did not strike her down as he feared, but had instead flung a knife towards her feet. Thrown off balance, the woman would have tumbled to the ground if not for the Boiler Guard grasping her arm with his free hand, hoisting her off the ground.

Kesten was a tall piece of work, even without the signature Boiler Guard hat adding to his stature, but as he raised Hilda with ease, it became glaringly so. As he lifted her, he still leaned down, a sense of foreboding rippling through Hilda’s body. She could feel the chill of his stare pierce through her, even before a set of burning green eyes flashed behind his visor.

“I believe this is a fight between Sir Fortesque and I, I do not tolerate interference. Especially by traitors.” The last word held venom and not wasting further time with the intrusion, Kesten tossed Hildegard a few feet away, ignoring her complaints.

Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the woman. “Don’t injure her, but make certain she doesn’t interfere again.”

“Yessir!” his lackeys saluted, focus shifting from their boss to the mage. Guns directed at her, they made sure she would remain complacent.

Discarded blade back in hand, Kesten charged towards Daniel, picking up where they had left off.

He started intense as prior, but something became apparent. He was slowing down. Daniel noted this after pulling out his magical sword, trying to apply its broadness for a more defensive advantage. Landing a blow to the guard with the weapon tipped Daniel off. Kesten had a weakness to magical items.

With this new revelation, Daniel did his best to use the newly acquired sword to combat against the metal man.

There was nevertheless a struggle to fight against Kesten, but in no time he was flat on his back, black and green steam emitting from his body.

His lackeys abandoned their duty the second they heard metal collide with earth. Scrambling to their leader, they examined the extent of his injuries. In the end, they concluded it was best to evacuate.

Daniel had been thankful for them choosing to pull out, gods knew if they came after him now, he might not make it to his next destination.

Hoping his friend was fine, he peeked in her direction. She showed to be in good condition, but she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, deep in thought.

Shakily he rose to his feet, walking over to her.

“Hilda!”

No response.

Hovering over her, he tilted his head in confusion. “Hildy?”

Blinking, she looked up to the knight “Oh Dan… you’re ok. That’s good… that’s good.”

Frowning, he jabbed his sword into the ground, leaning against it. “Yes, but are you ok?”

It took her a bit to process his words. “Oh yes, yes just fine.”

“You sure?” A short delay before she nodded and turned her head to stare back at the ground. Lowering her knees slightly, she placed an elbow on one as her palm rested against her cheek. “Just.. thinking about something.”

Sitting down near her, he tiredly leaned against the glowing blade. “Like what?”

“... it’s just that.. I can tell Zarok’s done something to the guards. Or at least him. It was quick, but I saw there was that green glow the villagers had present in their eyes. Course, that could be Zarok’s magic flowing through the odd thing.”

Her eyebrows soon raised, now troubled. “Strangely enough, the scent coming from him smells oddly familiar to me…”

It smelled like.. A much better and different era…

__________

Castle Peregrin, the Kingdom of Gallowmere’s finest jewel. A castle that was acclaimed for good laughs, pleasant hospitality and a cut above the rest staff.

The Kingdom appealed to several people all across the realm. Many claim they traveled to Gallowmere for the gorgeous scenery, some appeared for the untold hopes of grandeur, and others? Well… some wished to live a quieter life.

Those who settled in the province had their reasons. With all the appealing things there was to offer, many interesting characters joined the populace of the vast kingdom. These folk often lived in hiding, though some were found and recruited to work secretly in or near the castle.

The ordinary staff had no clue where or why these new recruits entered their ranks in attending the King, but they tried not to ask questions. If they were there, they evidently belonged. Many of them established names for themselves, both good and bad.

“Hildegard!”

Speaking of..

“Hildegard von Bartles! Where are you!?”

The young woman in question was at her post, yes, but was she doing her duties? Not really.. She was alarmed at hearing the head of staff yelling for her, but as she continued swallowing her newly gained treats, she found she didn’t fully care.

“Hildegard there you are!” The head honcho came into her sight of view, marching right up to her. They were about to yell at her for her lack of progress, but paused as they noticed the treats entering her mouth. “ARE YOU EATING ON THE JOB HILDEGARD!?”

The blond shifted aside, continuing her consumption. A muffled ‘maybe’ escaping her lips.

Sighing, the head of faculty rubbed their temples. “You cannot be eating while on duty! I don’t care how delightful those pastries are, you have a duty first and foremost! King Peregrin is getting ready to host a banquet in honor of Sir Daniel Fortesque and his platoon’s promotion. You need to be on the ball!” They punctuated every word in their last sentence by smacking their hands together, hoping it emphasized how important this was.

Finishing her current treat, Hilda pouted “But these are so good…” she trailed off at the menacing glare shot her way. “Ok, ok! I’ll get back to it… promise!” She smiled as she set the basket down on an adjacent stand.

Staring at the girl for a few moments, her boss nodded their head once before spinning and making their way back down the corridor. Murmurs echoing something or another about the young blond.

Once they were out of sight, Hildegard exhaled and studied at her tools she was supposed to be using today with an uninterested expression. She was out of it today and working just seemed tiring. The little gifts she had found outside her doorstep this morning was the sole thing she had enjoyed about the day. Maybe if she ate another one, it would motivate her to continue working? That sounded like a solid plan.

Reaching for the basket as she smirked, the girl noticed after a moment only air met her grasp. Confused, she twisted her head to see the basket had disappeared.

Stunned, Hildegard patted the table, not understanding what she saw. It was here just a minute ago. Tapping the wooden surface several more times, she glanced around the top and near the floors, wondering where she put the thing. She was going mad trying to solve this mystery. About to lift the darn stand off from the floor and throw it, a tap to her shoulder almost made her scream aloud.

“Excuse me, are you looking for something?”

Stiffly, she turned her head to catch that someone had been behind her. What scared her more was that this individual towered over her. They were even taller than Sir Daniel. Eyes gliding higher to determine who it was precisely eased her nerves. She wasn’t all that familiar with the man, but she recognized him as the chef that often came on the request of the King. Hilda couldn’t quite recall his name, as the first time he introduced himself, she was… intoxicated.

Doing her best to offer a charming smile, Hilda patted her dress nervously as she spun to face him, waving her hands in front of her face. “Oh hello! Sorry, I.. Seemed to have misplaced something! Clumsy me!”

He raised a brow at this. “Oh? Well, that’s interesting.. I seemed to have found something. Is it perhaps yours?” holding a handle with just his pointer finger, the man lifted the basket filled with her pastries into sight.

Eyes widening, Hildegard jumped up and down in excitement. “Oh yes, yes! That is indeed it, now if you would just-”

As she reached for the basket, he raised it higher into the air. Blinking in confusion, she questioned this action. Had today been a different day, she might put up with this. But today wasn’t a different day and thus she wasn’t in the mood for games right now. Her tone was still friendly, but held a little more of an edge to it. “Haha yes yes, uh if you would, please hand over my basket.”

Glancing between the girl and the basket, the chef seemed to think about this. “... no.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“I said. No.” Flabbergasted, the woman pouted. Normally, she might have let this go. But those pastries, ones that are only as flavorful as ones she’s eaten from town festivals, are worth fighting for. She doesn’t care even if she had to fight the king himself, she would get those back even if it killed her!

Much to his surprise, Hilda jumped for the basket, fingertips grazing the underside as he hoisted it higher just in time. Smirking at her antics, he chuckled. “Well.. seems someone really wants this back.”

“Of course I want it back, that has breads and sweets in there given to me!”

“Hmm.. well my answer is still no-”

Getting a little fed up, Hildegard jumped for the basket again, provoking him to lift it higher above his head. Wholly focused on the task at hand, she didn’t even acknowledge how bad this could look to outsiders. She was essentially pressed against some man, fruitlessly reaching for baked goods.

“Give. It. Back!”

He seemed to mull it over, tapping his foot on the ground as he did so. After a moment, his free hand moved into view, displaying a portion of sweet bread. “Kind of rude to have all these baked goods and not share, don’t you think?”

Seeing the delicacy, Hildegard attempted to snatch it, but failed to do so as with the basket. At this point, she was glaring at him so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if he caught on fire. Her stare did little to nothing on affecting him.

“Don’t you dare!”

Smirking the man kept his eyes on the roll. “Well, I didn’t hear a please at throughout this, so… no.” The pastry never quite made it to his mouth as someone else interrupted their little moment.

“Pardon me, Orell, sir! I was wonder-” both the castle staff members spun their heads to the new voice, noticing a man from Sir Daniel’s group, Canny Tim. At both of their glances and observing their position, he anxiously chuckled. “Am I… interrupting sir?”

Chuckling, the man now known as Orell shook his head. “Of course not Tim. Just teasing one of the other staff members. Wanted to see where my assistants extra baked goods were running off to.”

Lowering his hands, he handed the basket back to Hildegard before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry about that, I find it fun to tease at times. In truth, I get my fill of those pastries for the celebration periods, so your treats weren’t in any real danger.”

Hildegard never got the chance to reply as before she could utter a word, he stuffed the piece of bread he held into her mouth.

“Stay safe kid.” He ruffled her hair before making his way towards Canny Tim. Waving over his shoulder at her, both men departed from her sights.

Blushing, she chewed the pastry angrily. She might need to eat the remaining pastries to help her feel better… and pay Mr. Orell a visit in the kitchen later for a little payback.

__________

Recalling that moment ages ago was random but not unwelcome. She was certain if blood could rush to her cheeks it would happen. Wanting to smack her face for the second hand embarrassment, she wishes she could chastise her alive self for the awkward moment. Canny Tim never mentioned it, but did she ever feel self-conscious around him remembering that particular interaction with Orell.

Hilda now wondered why the scent of the Boiler Guard commander brought back such an old memory…

Tilting her head towards Daniel, her tone grew even more puzzled. “Dan… did that Boiler Guard remind you of anything?” Or anyone?

Pondering her question the skeleton shook his skull, a quiet “Nuh-uh” leaving him.

“Ah ok.. Guess I’m randomly recalling the good old days!”

Glancing to the sky, stars were noticeable among the sea of darkness.

“I think we should set up camp here. I’m sure you need the rest after fighting that mad contraption!”

Dan couldn’t agree more, the battle had left him exhausted. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter the Boiler Guard or his goons for some time. He could only pray that their paths never crossed again. But he’s never been so lucky, has he?